


Monsterboy Quest

by taiyakisoba



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Elf Sex, F/M, Fantasy, Gentle femdom, Loss of Virginity, Manticore, Monsterboy, Monsters, Older Woman/Younger Man, Older Woman/Younger Monster, Romance, femboy, imp, three way, wolf boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiyakisoba/pseuds/taiyakisoba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unsatisfied with her new life as a nun, retired knight Levinja Verada leaps at the opportunity to undertake the dangerous task of retrieving an ancient relic from the monster-infested wilderness. But when she comes face-to-face with a young male manticore, she soon discovers that not all encounters with monsters require a sword...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Manticore's Sting

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a change of pace from me this time! This is the start of a series which will be regularly updated. The inspiration is of course from the wealth of monstergirl material on the internet, but I thought it would be fun to flip things on their head and have monsterboys instead. And although I do use the term 'boy' a lot in this story, please be assured that all characters are 18+, or whatever the monstrous equivalent is. 
> 
> Also, feel free to suggest potential monsterboys for later chapters in the comments or via my twitter: @taiyakisoba2014 Enjoy!

The spare wooden floor of the room was hard against Levinja's knees as she knelt, eyes shut, hands clasped together, and sought again that place of inner peace the Reverend Mother was always talking about.

“There is a place in every heart, free of all desire and fear and passion, where we become aware of the illusionary nature of the world. Seek out that place, acolyte Levinja, if you wish to understand the source of the peace we Sisters of Aletheia enjoy.”

An acolyte. Her, Levinja Verada, retired knight, mother of two sons, a woman of two and forty summers. An acolyte!

And yet it was the path she had chosen for herself. Kneeling on the floor, she snorted and straight away the peaceful place the Reverend Mother had spoken of receded from her. She sighed and with the passion of her disappointment it vanished completely. 

She was thankful for it. She got to her feet, muttering to herself. Her knees were chafed and her thighs and butt hurt, too. She had never got used to the way a sister was supposed to sit. She envied the other acolytes, the way they could sit there for hours on end, finding their place of inner peace – some of them sisters from childhood, others, like her, refugees from the real world.

The real world. She felt the sting of sudden guilt. The sisters had taken her in, after all. When her husband had died and despair had gripped her heart, it was a Sister of Aletheia who had found her, kneeling in the freezing rain outside a church, begging the gods to bring him back to her. Her tears had been so hot that even the freezing rain had not cooled them.

She'd tried to come to terms with his death. A freak accident, drowned, swept from the deck of a ship within sight of land, within sight of their very home. She knew she was not alone, was not the lonely victim of a unique disaster. Many other widows had suffered such a loss. Yet there was only one her, only one Levinja Verada. It did not matter that her grief was shared by others. They were not her. The grief she suffered was all her own. 

Her sons had been there for her. Almost grown men, they had been at her side. But how to reach a person in the depths of despair? And that was why she had at last had recourse to the gods, she, Levinja Verada, who had never asked for help off any other man or woman. Levinja Verada, the hero of Tarphessa, the slayer of the dragon of the Black Moors, on whose walls the skulls of monsters and beasts were arrayed, testament to her prowess with the sword, to her long career as a Knight of the Order of the Evening Star.

But that had been before, before she had fallen in love, married and quickly become heavy with twin boys. She had remained a knight, but a knight of the pageantry field. At first the honour of being one of the Autarch's Twelve had filled her chest, but soon the endless foppery of military displays had paled. She ached again for the melee, but her love for her husband and children had kept her tamed.

The boys had grown strong and brave, eager to become knights themselves. They had left home, and alone with her husband again she and he had grown even closer than they had been before. 

And then he'd died. Fate, they called it. Ill luck. The will of the Gods.

She had never believed in the gods, only in her strong right hand, and then, when that had failed, in the strength of her husband's love.

And so, with nothing left, she had knelt on those steps, the pain sluicing from her, tears and rain mingling until the sister found her. 

She hadn't made the choice to join the sisterhood straight away. It had taken time. Even when she had admitted to the Reverend Mother that she still did not truly believe in the gods, the tiny, whip-thin old woman with the dark eyebrows had fixed her with her deep-set eyes and grinned.

“That is the first step,” she had said. “There can be no true faith without doubt. You are ready, if you wish, to take on the robe.”

The robe. That white robe, plain and simple, and yet it clung to her. She had always been over-generously supplied in the hips, butt and bust by those gods she did not believe in, but her time here, kneeling and praying and performing the thousand little chores of an acolyte of the Order of Aletheia, had added voluptuousness to her form where once there had been pure muscle. 

Voluptuousness. It was the right word. Pain in her knees had driven the calm place of inner peace away this time, but next time it could just as easily be passion that did it. 

Passion. The thoughts she tried hard to suppress. Thoughts and dreams and daydreams, not always of her husband, may the gods forgive her. She would do as the others did, busy herself with the rosary or one of the thousand-line chants, and sometimes that worked. But not always. And sometimes, as she bathed, she would bring her hands deep within the valley of her thighs and with slick fingers bring release at last to the dreadful pressure that grew within her, that overwhelming tension that came screaming out of her, or would do so if she did not bite back her cries of delight until her bottom lip bled.

Such thoughts birthed a liquid heat in her even now. She brushed the robes from where they were bunched around her thighs. The movement of the cotton against her bare skin thrilled her. She swallowed, glanced at the door of her cell, willed her hand to pull away, was powerless as her fingers danced higher to the growing heat and wetness between her legs.

She pushed the heel of her hand there, bit back a cry.

A knock on the door.

“Acolyte Levinja?”

Her hands flew from between her legs. Acolyte Machka's voice. “Yes?” Levinja cried out, hoping that Machka would not notice the heat of passion that still thickened her voice.

“The Reverend Mother wishes to see you.”

Levinja swallowed again. The woman truly had a sixth sense. 

\----------------

“You wish for me to go on… a quest?”

It had been an age since Levinja had said the word. It felt strange and familiar in her mouth all at once. A delightful word, and dangerous.

Delightful. Again she sensed an inflammation of passion. But it was not her fault. The Reverend Mother had used the word. Her heart raced as she repeated the word in her head, remembered what it meant.

“Yes,” the Reverend Mother said, nodding. “A quest.”

Levinja frowned, sure that this was some sort of test. “But Reverend Mother, my studies – I, I cannot just-”

The Reverend Mother's lips curled up into an understanding smile. “Now, child, we all know how you struggle with your lessons. There is no sin in this. Why, it was a good many years before even I found that place of quiet rest in my heart. And that quiet place is not always found on the cold floor of one's cell. Why, the great Saint Veverica discovered it when fleeing from the predations of the dragon of Revisca. No, there are many different paths to that peaceful place. And I feel perhaps that your restlessness is divinely sent...”

Levinja flushed and stared at the floor. All this talk of quests and dragons made her blood flow hot, and she felt too the sting of guilt at the Reverend Mother's mentioning of her 'restlessness'. Is that what it was, this deep passion that kept filling her to overflowing, which drained from her all at once in a delicious flood, only to well up again? But no, the Reverend Mother was speaking surely of her desire to return to the old ways, to the life of a knight.

The Reverend Mother's eyes glimmered. She had recognised the doubt in Levinja's face. 

“This place is your home, Levinja,” she said, gently. “And will always be so. That will never change. All I am asking of you, all the gods themselves perhaps are asking of you, is for you to leave it for a short while.”

Levinja raised her eyes. “But a quest, Reverend Mother?”

The old woman smiled. She raised a hand and Machka, who had all this time been patiently waiting in a corner in quiet reverie, woke and bustled over to Levinja. She was holding a book. 

Machka glanced at the Reverend Mother, who nodded. She opened the book to a page which had been bookmarked.

The Reverend Mother spoke. “Last month this book was discovered deep in the Convent's library,” she said. “An ancient work, by an anonymous author. The language is obscure and it took our most learned sisters long to translate it. The book speaks of many things, but it is this page that is the one relevant to your quest.”

Levinja was already staring at the book. The page was beautifully illuminated and illustrated, the rich reds and deep blues as bright as though they had been painted by some diligent scribe just this morning. The language was indeed ancient, and Levinja could only understand a good dozen words on the page. But the illustrations made the matter clear.

“A treasure,” murmured Levinja.

“Or rather, a holy relic,” said the Reverend Mother. “But precious beyond imagining. It is the mirror that Maona carried.”

Levinja looked up, her eyes wide. “Saint Maona's mirror?”

She knew the story. Every acolyte and sister did, for Saint Moana was the funder of their Order. When the Lady Maona had turned away from her life of hedonistic pleasure, she had discarded all her possessions save one: her precious mirror. It remained, so she said to her followers, not as a reminder of who she had been, but a reminder of who she was now. 

“The mirror will always show the truth,” Levinja recited. “The truth of all things.”

The Reverend Mother nodded. “You have learned your lessons well.” She coughed and Machka, who had fallen back into her reverie, startled and turned the page to reveal a map.

“As you can see,” continued the Reverend Mother, “The tower where the mirror lies is far from here, across the wilderness. It is many weeks journey.”

Levinja's eyes scanned the map with the learned keenness of a military mind. Her breath quickened with the surging of her blood. Yes, many days journey through the wilderness. It would be a dangerous journey. The illustrator of the map had filled it with little figures, monsters, many of them. Perhaps, like many illustrators, she had merely been terrified of leaving any blank space unfilled and had let her whimsy get the better of her. But it was true that the wilderness, far from human towns and cities, was filled with monsters. Levinja's eyes found elves and manticores and kobolds and lupines and merrows and many others.

“It will be very dangerous,” Levinja said. She flushed when she realised she had spoken the words aloud and not just thought them.

“Yes,” said the Reverend Mother. “That is why I have asked this thing of you. Of all of us, you are the only one with the experience and skills to make the journey, or pilgrimage, rather. Your many years as a Knight of the Order of the Evening Star will be vital to your survival. And yet-” The Reverend Mother settled back in her chair. “I fear I am asking too much of you. Perhaps this is all selfishness on my part, and I desire this relic more than is right.”

“No, Reverend Mother,” said Levinja, looking up from the book. “I will undertake the pilgrimage. You and the sisters have showered every kind of kindness on me, and now I have the opportunity to repay you.”

The Reverend Mother smiled indulgently. “You know there is no obligation between us,” she said. “Such things are a binding of the world that we little need. But I thank you for accepting this task, and the gods, from whom all blessings flows, thank you also.”

The Reverend Mother rose and came forward. She took Levinja's hands and lifted her to her feet. The old woman was surprisingly strong, the wrinkled hands hard and warm. 

“Go and ready these hands for the gods' work,” said the Reverend Mother. Then, in a softer voice, “I hope on your journey you will find that peace that you have sought for so long.”

Levinja nodded. But peace was far from her mind now, as her heart swelled in excitement. A quest!

It had been a long time. 

\-------------------

Her armour shone. Sister Zelva had brought it out of the convent's storage, where all the personal items that the acolytes and sisters had owned before taking on the robe were kept. To leave the convent, all one had to do was retrieve the items and go. 

But Levinja was not going forever. No, she would return. She would return, triumphant, with the Mirror of Maona. Her fingers had shivered in her excitement as she had oiled and polished her greaves and cuirass, and now they trembled as she took off her robe and dressed in her silk tunic and began to tie on her armour.

It had been many years, but the muscles of her body remembered. Her fingers danced over the laces, knowing without looking where they were to be tied. And yet, as she slipped on her doublet she noticed it felt tight. Had it shrunk during the long years it had been stored away?

Her doublet, shrunk? She snorted at her simplicity. No, it was she who had expanded. The wideness of her hips, the heaviness of her breasts, the roundness of her thighs – the extra pounds she was carrying had found their way there. She knew she should be thankful for that. Her stomach was still flat, if not as toned as it had once been, and her waist was narrow. But her hips and boobs! With a sigh she laced her doublet more loosely before turning her attention to the cuirass. 

She quickly resized the buckles of the thongs. Better to be comfortable than to make believe the last few years had not happened! 

She was dressed. There were no mirrors here in the convent, of course, but she had burnished her shield until it had shone and now she looked at herself in it. 

The curve of the shield elongated her figure and made her slimmer and she chuckled with a childish delight at the sight. But illusions aside she was happy with what she saw. Levinja Verada, Knight of the Order of the Evening Star. How long had it been since she had seen herself thus?

She leaned down, looking at her face in the silver boss. Yes. A few more lines, perhaps, but it was the face she remembered. Green eyes, hard like jade, but lit from behind now with a cheerful energy she had not felt in a long time, maybe not since he had…

She frowned. Ah yes, a few more lines there as well. But her face was not uncomely. She had been sought after when young, and even after his death she had not been wanting for suitors. What did they like about her, men? They often spoke of the dark arc of her eyebrows, the silken blackness of her straight hair, the olive of her skin. But that was all lovers' talk. It cheered her to remember it, but she pushed the memories away.

She took up her sword, felt the old familiar weight of it. It felt good in her hand. She struck the Heron in Flight kata, left foot back, right foot forward, sword a sudden deadly slash of silver in the reflected steel. 

Ah, but a twinge in her back! She gasped, lowered her sword and brought her feet back together. Better to ease herself back into the old ways, perhaps. Her mind remembered, but her body would need a while longer.

\----------------------

Levinja shifted the heavy pack on her back and looked back over her shoulder. The Convent's whitewashed walls glowed in the clear rays of the morning sunshine. Above her the heavens were a dome of cobalt-blue. An auspicious start to her quest.

She had forgone a horse, deciding that the way would grow too hard for one soon enough, and for the same reason had left her shield and greaves behind. This was a quest, not a war, and she needed to travel light. The Convent bordered on the wilderness, on the very edge of human habitation by design. Her journey would be shorter for it, but no less dangerous. She would have to move fast.

She scanned the grassy plains before her. There, in the distance, powder-blue-grey against the sky – the mountains. Somewhere deep within them the tower waited for her. But between here and there were grasslands and ravines and forests and rivers and hills and badlands to cross.

Levinja felt a prickling on the back of her neck and turned. A single figure, tiny and black against the white wall of the Convent. The Reverend Mother. Was she raising a hand in farewell? It was too far to make out. Perhaps she had.

Levinja had left without saying goodbye to anyone. It was better that way. The Sisters of Aletheia lived cheek and jowl, but despite their physical proximity they were not close – not unfriendly, but wary of the passion for society that ruled the world outside those white walls. 

Passion. That word again. Yes. She must conquer her passion if she was to find her inner peace.

The grass shimmered in the rising breeze. Her heart felt lighter. Ah. Perhaps Reverend Mother was right. Perhaps peace was beckoning to her, there, on the horizon, deep in the wilderness.

And yet, monsters lurked there too. 

The thought thrilled her. Combat. It would be necessary, likely or not, although she would do her best to avoid it. If she were wounded here in the wilderness, help would be far away. 

But still her heart filled to overflowing with the thought of battles like those in her youth. Of the sweat and heat and raging fire of the melee…

Ah. Again that passion. She shook her head, turned and strode down the grassy slope, focussing on the heaviness of her pack, the heat of the sun, the single trickle of sweat from her brow, slipping down her cheek to her chin, gentle as a lover's caress…

She resisted the urge to laugh out loud, to fill this gentle quiet with mocking laughter. Instead, she broke into a jog. The exhaustion of work would teach her better sense. 

\---------------------

Levinja crouched at the bank of the river. The plain had become low hills now, the grass replaced with scattered groves of trees. The river had been obvious from a distance, crowded as it was by twin columns of thirsty willows and marsh-oaks.

She slaked her own thirst. The water ran over sand here, clear and glittering like flowing glass. Silver fish flickered, blades of knives among the bright green of water-grass. Beautiful, but also an assurance that the water was pure. She drank deeply, splashed cold water on her sweat-sticky face.

If only she could cool the heat underneath her arms, the sweatiness under her bound breasts with such ease. But she was not about to abandon her armour here. She had seen the signs. Footprints, clawed ones. A tuft of hair on a branch. This was an area frequented by monsters.

She remembered the map which she had consigned to memory – all those years as an acolyte, memorising the thousand-line chants and the hundred precepts had honed her mind. She saw it as though Machka was holding it open before her.

Yes. This was the place where the cartographer had drawn the little figure of a manticore. She remembered well the shaggy hair and the spiked tail. Manticores were dangerous monsters, and she would do well to avoid them. 

She stood up. The break had refreshed her, but she brooked no more delay. She hefted her pack and hurried along the river bank.

The sand of the bank soon turned to rock and she heard ahead the roar of white water. Rapids. She pushed past the bushes that overgrew the track and saw that the rocks became a cliff-face, sheer and smooth. Above her, the glitter of shattered water like fragments of crystal, the arc of a rainbow, the flash of white foam. The rapids were born of a waterfall. 

There would be no more following the river. She sighed and turned back. Earlier she had seen a track that had led away from the river. She would try it.

She found the track again, almost invisible, little more than a trail of convenience made by a deer or some other creature. She pushed aside the brush and entered. 

The trail dipped down, curving wide. Ah, so it had been made by someone to avoid that cliff. It led around the other side of the hill. The rocks here were huge, a jumble of boulders left over from the time of the Deluge, some the size of houses. The trail swung around a smaller rock the size of an elephant and her hand touched its grey surface. It was warm with the sun. 

She lay back against it, enjoying a moment of the sun's rays on her face. But quickly she began to sweat again. She lifted an arm and sniffed. The clean tang of perspiration greeted her. She felt, too, a warm wetness on her thighs, the trickle of sweat from her groin. The sensation sent a thrill along her spine. She sighed at the treachery of her body, wishing she was back near the coolness of the river. 

Still, nothing else but to hasten on. The path would soon reach the river again. She eased herself back onto her feet, swung the pack over her shoulder. The rock the path was skirting was large and she broke into a run, wishing to find that sweet, shaded coolness of the river again, monster or no monst-

A flash of black and bronze. Something struck her hard in the chest and with a human cry of alarm and pain went sprawling back behind the rock. Levinja stumbled backwards, her feet skidding on the loose gravel, but she quickly regained her footing and shook off the pain of being winded. She drew her sword and peered around the rock.

A figure lay sprawled on its back in the middle of the track. Male, but not human, although the cry which had come from his lips had sounded so. No, the bronze skin, the shaggy mop of black hair, the widely spaced golden eyes and the tiny fangs visible in his mouth as he gasped out his pain revealed him to be a monster, a beastman-type.

He was a little shorter than Levinja, and from the slenderness of his frame and his lack of beard he was probably a young male. She approached. The monster's eyes went wide and he scrambled backwards. He was afraid of her!

Ah, yes. Her sword. It was quite intimidating. And he was just a young male, after all. 

Levinja sheathed her sword and took another step forward. “Do you speak common?”

The monster stared at her.

“Common?” she prompted again.

The monster nodded. “Yes,” he said, his golden eyes still huge.

The high voice of a boy. So he was as young as he looked. He must be around the same age as her youngest son, around half her own, just barely past the border between boy and manhood. He was no threat to her.

Levinja moved closer, her hands palm-down. “Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I just wish to move past.”

The monster, alarmed, rose to his feet. “S-stay away!” he cried.

A tail, a long tail with a bristle of spines at its end shivered from behind his back where it had been hidden by his body. He was a manticore!

Levinja stepped back. The spines of a manticore were potent with venom. Even a young one could-

In her haste her feet slipped on broken scree and she slid forward. The manticore cried out in alarm and swung his tail. Time slowed.

Ah yes. She remembered this dance. All those years of training, all those years of deadly combat came rushing back at once and her instincts took over. The manticore's tail swept through the air, a panicked, wild blow, but all the more dangerous for it. She leaned further forward, let her weight carry her out of the arc of the blow as she turned her fall into a roll.

It was very nearly enough. The tip of one of the manticore's spines grazed her thigh and she felt the wound sting with a pain far out of proportion with its size. 

Still she flew forward. There was no going back now. But the young manticore's wild blow had unbalanced him and he stumbled forwards, his feet slipping on the same loose gravel. His arms flew out as he fell and grabbed at Levinja reflexively.

Time no longer crept by. Suddenly the swirl of green foliage and blue sky and grey rock as the two of them, in their strange, accidental embrace met the ground and rolled together like two lovers playing on a garden lawn.

They quickly came to a sore and dusty stop with her on top of him. Levinja scrambled up onto her hands and knees, still straddling the monster who lay prone on the ground beneath her, winded and gasping. 

She tried to sit up. The scratch on her thigh was a line of fire now, the rest of body flaring like kindling with her movement as the venom flowed through her.

Levinja fell back forward onto her hands and gasped. 

Heat flooded her body, a strange heat, like a fever, but without nausea. The venom was like liquid fire, pooling deep in her chest and her head and between her thighs. 

Of course. A manticore's venom. In small doses it did not kill but instead ignited the blood, inflamed the nerves. Manticores in their lovemaking would often wound each other, but being almost immune to their venom the effect was one of a potent aphrodisiac. Sometimes, a manticore with ravishment on his mind would dose a human woman thus and enjoy the involuntary lust that his venom elicited in her body, making her eager to submit to his predatory embraces.

This manticore was young and had dealt her but a glancing blow. It was enough, though, for Levinja to succumb the effect of its venom. Her face flushed, her nipples hardened, and she grew liquid beneath the waist. Her skin tingled, the blood flowing fast just beneath the surface. Every sensation was magnified, the sharp dustiness of the gravel beneath her palms, the sleek muscles of the manticore's thighs between her knees as she straddled him, the sound of his soft gasping as he struggled for breath, the wild scent of his skin and hair, the smell of her own sweat.

Levinja's mouth flooded with saliva. She desired to strip the cloying and scratchy armour and clothes from her blistering skin, but the need of the fire between her thighs drove such thoughts away. The boy's face, contorted with pain, the wet pinkness of his lips and mouth, the smear of dirt across his freckled nose and cheeks, everything about him inflamed her passion further.

Part of her, in the back of her mind, knew the foolhardiness of what she was doing, knew that this was all just the effect of the venom flowing through her, swelling her already ardent need, but then her body and instinct took over, overwhelming her reason. She threw aside her pack and leaned down and pressed her hungry mouth against the boy's lips, tasting the delightful sweet thickness of his breath.

He gasped and his eyes flew open, the gold in them alight with sudden terror. Levinja pulled away, grinning, and the boy began to struggle. His legs pulled up beneath her and his tail twitched, making ready either to fight or flee. She took hold of his tail below the spiky end, grabbed his other arm and pushed him against the ground, forcing his legs to straighten as she weighed him down, her pelvis pressing on his. Then she kissed him again, her mouth finding his as he shook his head.

“Be still,” she breathed. “I will not hurt you.”

Her voice was deep, thick with desire, and did not sound like her own. The venom now dominated her body, drove all other thoughts from her head but her desire to satisfy her burning need, to possess this young male squirming beneath her.

He pressed his lips together, barring her entry to the delights of his mouth she had had but the tiniest taste of. Were her kisses really so hateful to him? She tapped the tip of her tongue against his lips, drew it along with a teasing lick.

The boy gasped again and Levinja, like the warrior she was, pushed forward her advantage. Her tongue dipped into his mouth, seeking his, finding it in that exquisite place of heat and wetness. He was delicious, the scent and flavour of his saliva sweet and yet masculine, his youth mixing with the earthy wildness of his monstrous nature. His tongue pressed against hers, no kiss but a desperate desire to push her from his mouth.

But Levinja would suffer no such discourtesy. She drew her lips from his, brought her mouth against his chin and neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses. Her tongue flicked out and danced along the length of one pointed ear. 

The boy cried out and Levinja smiled. No male she had ever lain with had been able to resist such a move. Her tongue played with the sensitive folds of his ear and her nostrils were filled with the sharp animal scent of his hair.

For all the tossing of his head and his gasps, the boy's struggles had grown weaker. She brought her mouth back against his and this time he struggled little against the questings of her hungry tongue. Levinja pressed down on him, feeling the warmth of his body between her thighs as she covered him. Her blood quickened. She regretted her doublet, the cuirass that was still tied to her chest, and longed to feel her breasts with their hard nipples pressed against the boy's smooth, bronze body. 

Her ardour made the stripping of her armour difficult, but her experienced fingers found a way. She quickly undid the thongs of her cuirass and pulled it away, then turned her attention to the laces of her doublet. Soon that was cast aside too, and dressed only in her tunic she was able to cover the boy without fear of crushing him. Now the centre of her lust, which boiled with the deepest liquid fire, could press against his most precious spot with only her tunic and his loin cloth separating them. She rolled her hips, rubbed against him and the boy cried out into her mouth. Ah yes. That wonderful hardness, the length of him growing between them as she teased him. 

She let go of his tail and it fell back against the ground. She knew he no longer offered her any threat. No, his struggles were little more than the squirms of one being pleasured, his gasps ones of delight and need.

“Good boy,” she murmured, pulling away. He would not try and escape, now. She kissed him along the jaw, down his neck to his chest, breathed deep of the male scent pooled there in the light tufting of his chest hair. Then her hungry mouth found a nipple and she slid her hot tongue across it.

The boy cried out and the soft nub hardened at once. Ah, he grew harder lower down, too. A nice length, not the longest she had ever encountered, but she knew it would not disappoint. 

She flicked the nipple with her tongue before attacking his other. It was already hard and she mouthed it. The boy gave a little half-gasp, half-sigh and Levinja felt her heart swell in pleasure at the sound. Ah, the secrets a male's body held!

The venom still burned her. It would brook no more delay, no matter how much Levinja delighted in the pleasant teasing games of love. Anyway, the boy was ready, his member pressed against her hard and hot. 

She sat back on her knees, straddling his thighs. He stared up at her, his eyes wide, his mouth slack, still afraid, but a fear subordinate to his own desire. 

Levinja grinned down at him and drew the hem of her tunic up over her thighs. The paleness of her skin, so long kept from the sun, made the dark black of her pubic hair all the more striking. Her thighs glistened, awash with her desire, and the boy's eyes grew wider. 

Perhaps he had had little experience with women, had never before seen one naked, she thought. He was surely around the same age as her youngest son, easily half her age and –

Levinja hesitated. What was she doing? Was she really going to –? A single heartbeat and the manticore's venom pumped through her again. Rational thought was washed away by the need of her body. Beneath her, the boy blinked, his mouth wide open, a look of confusion on his face, but also need. She leaned down, delighted by the look, and kissed him, softly this time.

His hardness pressed up against her own sex, the head brushing her most sensitive spot. Lightning burst along her spine, washing her with a wave of pleasure. Oh god. The venom… it intensified every pleasure tenfold! 

“Good, good boy,” she gasped, rubbing against him. “You are ready for me, aren't you?”

The boy gasped beneath her, gasped against the wet eagerness of her kisses. Fumbling with his tongue, he no longer sought to push Levinja's from his mouth, instead sought it out. 

Her heart melted, flowed down to the centre of her being. She could wait no longer.

She reached down and encircled that delightful length, felt her desire grow stronger as the smoothness slipped through her hand. God, he was so hard, and already slick with her. She positioned her hips, brought the head against her dripping wetness and eased herself down upon him.

He speared into her and her cries echoed the boy's as her world dissolved in a surge of pleasure so overwhelming she thought she would faint. Oh god, this feeling! The feeling of a man inside her, of engulfing him. Was this how it had felt, all those times? How could she have forgotten?

The boy was staring up at the sky, his eyes rolling back into his head, his mouth slack, the inside wet and hot. Levinja, delighted with the sight, dipped her tongue into his mouth, joined the heat of her welling saliva with his. 

She eased herself back off, slowly, teasingly, teasing both herself and the boy. His lips mouthed against hers and she drank in the ardent hot gasps from his mouth.

She stopped and broke the kiss. He was just barely inside her now. The boy looked up at her, his golden eyes wide with fear. But not the fear of before – no, the fear that she would stop.

Levinja grinned lewdly at him. Then, her eyes glued to his, she rolled her hips forward and drew the entire length of him into her once more. 

He cried out, but this time Levinja bit her lip to stop herself from doing the same. No, she wished to hold onto this incredible tension, this boiling heat that was filling her, worried that if she were to cry out, it was would escape with her panting breath, that the pleasure would lessen. She bit her lip and rolled her hips, her eyes never leaving the boy's as she fell back into that old instinctive rhythm, that beautiful moving together of hips that brought such pleasure to man and woman.

How long had it been? How many years since she had enjoyed a man? Her husband. No man since his death. But now, this lad, this young manticore.

Guilt flashed in her, but the venom burned it away. Her body cried out for this – no, not just her body. Her soul as well. That terrible pressure, that terrible prison her body had made for her, where the only escape was the heated and guilty sliding of her fingers between her slick thighs, the squeezing of hardened nipples which desired the biting lips of a lover.

What must the boy be thinking, she wondered? His eyes never left hers, the deep gold holding a fire inside them. She knew that fire, that masculine desire, that need. 

The boy lifted a timid hand to her waist, his fingers brushing the cotton of her tunic against her skin. The feeling electrified her and she flooded again. She reached down, found his hand and placed it hard on one hip.

He placed the second without her help. 

Yes, that was better. He could guide himself inside her now, find the angle of his own pleasure. The venom surged inside her, but she was not selfish. 

She humped the manticore, pushing down at him as thought trying to draw all of him inside her, her liquid desire thick in his sparse pubic hair. With his hands around her waist, Levinja's own hands were free. She lifted her tunic up further, desiring to be free of the constricting material. Distracted, she no longer rolled her hips with her earlier abandon, but the boy took up the slack, pushing himself up inside her.

Levinja could not stop herself crying out this time. This, this is what she had missed, that urgent desire of a man, pushing inside her, that urgent need to fill her with seed. 

She lifted her tunic up over her still bound breasts and began to tear at her chest binding. She knew the boy would want to see her breasts bare, to have them pressed against him. All boys did.

But he was already growing harder. She could feel that familiar point in a man's rhythm, that jump in speed, when urgent thrusts became desperate. 

She tried to slow his thrusting by easing the rolling of her hips, but it was no use. In truth, she did not want him to slow. She needed him to come inside her, to fill her to overflowing.

And so she matched him, smashing her pelvis against his. The brave lad kept up with her, his face contorting in pleasure and agony as he fought against his own climax.

The darling. He did not want this to end!

Forgetting her chest-binding, she took his hands off her hips, threaded her fingers in his and pushed his hands back against the ground. She had begun this fight and she would end it.

Her humping turned feverish. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, drinking deeply of his saliva. His breath was hot, coming now in delightful little cries. 

Inside her he grew harder and hotter still. She felt his body tighten. 

Now! 

Levinja lifted her hips back one final time, then pushed herself down upon him, the whole of her heated slickness engulfing him to the hilt. The boy gripped her hands and cried out against her lips.

She broke the kiss to hear the final cry of his desire.

Heat and liquid exploded inside her, so much of it, all at once, bringing with it the final wave of her own pleasure. The boy's desperate jerks, the thrusting of his hips to drive his spurting member as far inside her as he could, to fill her womb to overflowing. This ecstasy, how had she forgotten it?

But her body remembered. Shuddering, she reached the summit of her own pleasure and biting back a cry she came. 

She rolled over, the boy still spurting inside her, pulling him on top of her as she lay on her back, her heels hooking his clawed feet, her body hungry for all of him. She did not want any of it to flow out of her.

Was this still the effect of the venom, or her own desire? Surely the two had become one, long ago now. But she could still feel the venom burn along every nerve as her body, trembling, drew every drop of his essence from his pulsing body.

A final gasp from the boy, a gasp of exhaustion mixed with his pleasure, and she unknit her fingers from his. She slumped back, panting, and ran her dirt-smeared hands across the slick sweat of his back. 

She found the base of his tail, stroked it. He muttered against her. The tail stayed slack, docile. He would not attack her. No, not after the delicious pleasure she had taught him. 

He lay his head on her chest, his eyes hooded. Was he... was he going to fall asleep? 

Levinja's heart flooded with happiness. Males. Monster or human, they were all the same. Her hands took her delight from his languid body, stroking the soft firmness of his buttocks and his thighs and the smooth muscles of his back.

He was soft inside her and popped out, and with him came a flood of their mixed juices. Levinja gasped, disappointed. Oh, if only they never went soft afterwards. The exhaustion of sex flowed over her, melding with the pleasant soreness between her legs, the sticky salt of her own sweat on her brow. Her body still pulsed. 

The boy's breathing had slowed. He really was going to fall asleep. Levinja stroked his hair until his drooping eyelids closed.

He lay asleep on her. He was not so frightened now! Levinja stroked his back, delighted in the masculine weight of him on top of her, slight though it was. She felt a twinge between the legs. No! Surely she was not getting aroused again? 

This time her desire lay like the embers of a fire, the pooling of the manticore's thin venom feeding it. She took delight in the warmth under her heart, although she now felt the sting of guilt. The first man she had lain with, after so many years, a mere youth, barely older than her youngest son, and a monster! She sighed. She hoped the gods would forgive her. But perhaps… perhaps they had sent him to her. Wasn't that what the Reverend Mother had said? That destiny was the gods leading us by the hand?

Levinja chuckled, her chest heaving at her thoughts. She was merely rationalising what had happened. The gods had sent this slim slip of a boy for her to take her pleasure from? Ridiculous. 

Her soft laughter woke the boy. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. He started with alarm, his mouth opening, but Levinja stroked his back and buttocks and kissed his fear away.

“Shh,” she said. “I told you, you have nothing to fear from me.” She glanced across the grass, where her sword lay. “See? My weapon is far from us. I do not mean you any harm.”

She sighed. Her sword, lying out of arm's reach. Poor form for a knight. But luck had been on their side and no other monsters had happened upon the two of them.

The boy moved to sit up, but Levinja pulled him to her and after a moment's struggle he gave in. He lay his head back down on her wrapped breasts and gazed up at her. 

Levinja felt a sudden shyness. She had lain with this boy, ridden him until he had filled her to overflowing with his semen, kissed the gasps of his climax as she had come too, but now, with him lying on top of her in this gentle embrace, she felt awkward. 

“What is your name?” she asked. She did not even know his name!

His golden eyes darted to one side. Clearly, he was wondering if there was some hidden trick behind the question. He seemed at last to decide there was not.

“Gulilubru,” he murmured.

“Gulilubru,” repeated Levinja. “I like your name.”

The boy smiled at her shyly, the smile of a boy praised, perhaps, by a friend of his mother and too embarrassed to be truly pleased with the compliment. Levinja's heart melted at the sight.

“I am sorry, Gulilubru,” she said at last. She patted one taut buttock. “I… I was perhaps not gentle in my need.”

The boy did not look at her but shook his head. Did he forgive her? Or did he just not understand?

She did not enquire further. The shake of his head had brushed his wild mop of black hair across her face. Oh, his scent! The scent of fresh sweat and soil and his own masculine smell. She felt herself stir and pushed the desire away. Another question.

“Have… had you lain with a female before, Gulilubru?”

The boy nodded slowly. Levinja was not prepared for the disappointment she felt. 

“A human, or…?”

“A manticore,” the boy Gulilubru murmured into her wrapping. 

“Your age?”

He shook his head. “Older,” he said. 

“Ah,” said Levinja. She should not feel so bad, then, a lewd matron bedding this innocent little thing. She had not stripped him of his innocence. A hungry older-sister had done that.

The thought did not ease the weight of her heart as she had hoped.

“But you're the first human I...” The boy blushed, pushed his face further into her chest. 

“Ah,” said Levinja. The boy's desire to please her swept the weight away.

The sun beat down on them. As her desire ebbed, the stickiness of their exertions grew troublesome. 

Levinja tapped the almost-sleeping boy on the shoulder. “Come,” she said. “Let's go to the river and bathe.”

The boy nodded, rolled off her. Levinja smoothed down the bottom half of her tunic. It had remained ridden up with the boy's weight on top of her. 

The boy Gulilubru glanced at her as she adjusted her clothes, then quickly turned away to arrange his own loincloth. Levinja saw the bronzed curve of his buttocks, the high, spiky tail, felt the melting of her heart sink lower.

Swallowing, she retrieved her sword and armour and pack from where she had tossed them aside. 

Levinja had half-expected the boy to run from her, but he did not. Instead he led her back up the track to the riverside. He took her to a little secluded area where the boll-swollen roots of a willow eased into the water. 

In the sunlight the water looked deliciously shaded and inviting. Levinja sat on a fallen log and began to undo her boots.

The boy leaped straight into the water, a slender bronze arrow. He disappeared beneath the surprising depths of the pool, ringlets spreading from the modest splash his slender body had made. Soon the water on the other side of the pond surged up and his dark head broke the surface, water sluicing off his hair, leaving it a veil of black seaweed across his neck and shoulders.

Levinja took her time with her boots, watched him wash. He delighted in his water-play as only a young man can, seeming to have forgotten about her. 

Soon, though, he glanced across at her with his golden eyes. Was there invitation there? He had said nothing.

Levinja tore out the final lace, kicked her boots away and then lifted her tunic up and off herself. She was naked, now, but for the wrapping of her breasts and she looked across at the boy.

He was gazing at her nakedness, but seeing her look he quickly turned away.

Levinja chuckled to herself. She separated her clothes, examined her tunic. It was stained and would need to be washed. Her thumb tested the moistness of the patch and she smelled herself and the boy there, mingled together. 

Oh gods. 

She quickly busied herself folding her tunic, then she sat down on the fallen log and began unwrapping her breasts. She positioned herself to the side, facing away from the boy, not for the sake of shame but so the boy would not fear to look at her. Levinja was proud of her breasts and as they were released from their prison she gasped in pleasure. Her fingers found the creases left by the wrapping's edge and rubbed at them, feeling the white skin turn warm and pink. 

The boy no longer splashed. She knew he was looking at her, admiring the ampleness of her chest. Within its wrapping it had not been apparent. Her breasts were still firm and high, with only the slightest sag, more from heaviness than from any lack of tone. No, that was not true. She lifted one and then together, testing their weight. She was out of condition, her breasts larger than before.

Her nipples grew hard. The boy's eyes burned across her skin.

Levinja turned, then, and the boy in a flustered splashing tore himself away. 

Levinja got up off the log. The air felt sweet on her bare skin and the freedom of her nakedness, the memory of the boy's eyes made her heart race. She strode to the edge of the pool, eased herself slowly into the water.

The boy had grown brave enough to watch her. With half of her body veiled by the dark water, it seemed as though he had found his courage again. His eyes quickly strayed to her breasts.

Levinja smiled at him, but really to herself. Males were all the same. They still held the obsession with breasts that a nursing child did. It was adorable, and she felt her heart leap, remembering how it felt to have her form admired by a man.

She waded across the pool, half-swimming towards the boy. He stared at her, moved back to give her room with the sweep of his hands.

Levinja dove under the water, pushed her body through the cool and dark as she held her breath. She knew the boy was not far from her and she let her body surge back to the surface. The water exploded around her. Oh, she had nothing of Gulilubru's slender elegance! But she swept the water from her eyes with the tossing of her head, revelled in the pouring of the water down her jutting breasts.

The boy was within arms reach, wide-eyed as she turned her burning eyes on him. The venom surged in her. Or was it merely the burning of her own desire? She could no longer tell.

Whatever it was, she reached for the boy and pulled him to her.

They played together in the water, her enveloping him with her body, pressing his smooth, wet skin to hers. Oh, she had wanted this before, but their lovemaking had been too frenzied to allow it. She kissed his neck and his chest, kissed his mouth deeply, and this time he kissed her back. His hands grew brave, sliding over her form, finding her breasts, covering them. He squeezed them, just like any inexperienced boy, but the excitement in his eyes, his open mouth, the hardness now pressing against her thigh with only his loincloth between them gave even his clumsy touch the exquisite pleasure of an expert. 

Her hand slid down from his smooth side and dove between his legs, quickly discovering the stiff length waiting for her there. The boy gasped and Levinja, panting against his mouth as she slid her tongue over his, pushed him back through the water to the shore. There was a rock there, a grey slab of granite half-sunk in the water, rounded like a river-pebble, and she pushed the boy Gulilubru against it. His wet back left an imprint of his slim form on the rock, his dripping hair tossing as Levinja's agile fingers made him harder still.

“Poor thing,” she murmured. “I am sorry for before, for ravishing you. But this body...” She slipped her lips down his chin and neck to his chest, licked the moisture from first one nipple and then the other. “But this body was made for a female's pleasure. Still, that is no excuse. Let me make it up to you.”

She slipped her hands under his armpits and hefted him back onto the rock, leaving his feet dangling in the water as her hands, trembling with eagerness, danced down his brown and glistening side and stomach to his loincloth.

“We don't need this, do we?”

Levinja drew the material down and his hardness bobbed free. She murmured with delight. He was rigid in his arousal, an arousal she had kindled in him. Not bad for an old woman!

Gulilubru stared down at her, eyes wide in disbelief, as she slid her lips over the head and drew his length deep into her mouth.

Oh, it had been so long since she had enjoyed this delight, that wondrously strange mixture of velvet smoothness and rock hardness that was a man's sex. Her nose pressed against his sparse pubic hair and she breathed deeply of his clean, masculine scent. 

She drew him out, slowly, letting her tongue slide on the underneath of his length, and as soon as the tip of her tongue rediscovered the tip of his member she tasted salt. He was delicious and she felt herself grow liquid beneath the legs. She licked and he jerked in her mouth.

It was all she could do stop herself from climbing on top and ravishing him again. But she was true to her word, no matter the surging of her desire and the venom still mixed with it. No, she did feel guilt for what she had done, although there was no real harm in it. To have so quickly succumbed to her desire! Where was that old knightly discipline, the discipline she had also learned as a nun?

What discipline? She bobbed her head up and down and Gulilubru cried out and squirmed on the sun-warm rock. No, if she had had the opportunity to do this, met some young monk while in the Convent, she would have done this, too. The venom was just an excuse. It was her body that desired this lewd pleasure, and for all her talk of being powerless to stop it, the truth was she did not want to stop. 

But she was no desperate animal. And a knight's word was her bond. She was going to make it up to this pretty young male, make sure he never forgot what it was like to lay with a human woman.

Levinja, her heart surging, slid him out of her lips. With one hand she jerked his length, now slick with a mixture of her saliva and his excitement, licked the head and flicked the tip of her tongue underneath it, on that taut little spot no man can resist.

He cried out and she tasted a surge of sticky salt on her tongue. 

The flavour of him set her venom-soaked heart alight. No, no. She could not break her word!

Her free hand slid into the water, found the slickness between her legs. The water and her own fluids were a single flow and as her fingers slid deep inside her she felt as though she had melted into the water, become some strange liquid thing, some nereid or other water monster herself.

The venom. It was addling her brains. Her thumb sought out the centre of her tension, found the hard button, swollen in her excitement. 

She cried out as her thumb slipped over it. In the water, it felt as though someone was tonguing her there. No, many tongues, some darting inside her. 

And still Gulilubru squirmed and panted as she dug her tongue into the slit of his member, needing more of that delicious savoury flavour. 

She engulfed him again in her mouth. He could grow no harder, now, and to do much more would be to indulge in torture, and Levinja had forsworn such things. But somehow he grew harder still. He cried out and she felt the skin of his member grow taut around the base.

He was coming! She felt him jerk once and suddenly her tongue and the inside of her mouth were basted with semen. The flavour was overpowering, the scent filling her sinuses as she desperately swallowed, not wishing to waste any of him. 

But he was already spurting again and she had to let a thin stream of the precious fluid drip from the corner of her mouth lest she choke. The thickness of the aroma of masculine pleasure drove her over the edge. She cried out in her own desperate ecstasy, her fingers plunging inside herself as her blood boiled white-hot in her veins.

Levinja burned. Her sex turned molten, her heart roasting in her chest as a toxic pleasure coursed through her. The boy kept spurting in her mouth and she drank his pleasure down, her own body spasming with each flood of his delicious essence. Her mouth and tongue and throat tingled as though filled with spices.

At last his spurting ceased and she felt him grow soft in her mouth. She sucked at the head, disappointed, needing more, but Gulilubru, now oversensitive, gently pushed her away.

She fell back, her fingers still pressed between her thighs, the water up to her neck as she leaned forward and panted out the final dregs of her pleasure. Then, feeling the heat subside and languor pour over her, she slid forward and slumped against the rock. Beside her, Gulilubru's tail twitched with the final echoes of his own climax. 

No. No, she could not let this exhaustion overtake her while still in the water. With a titanic effort she pulled herself up onto the rock and slumped down beside the boy. He was still looking up at the sky, blinking, his mouth open as he sucked in breath after breath.

Levinja draped a hand on his chest, ran her fingers across the muscular smoothness, fingertips nestling in his hair. 

“I hope you accept my apology,”” she murmured.

\-----------------

Later the two sat on the bank of the river not far away, near a sandy little beach and a jumble of low rocks that made the water burble with gentle foam. 

Levinja tended the fire while Gulilubru busied himself cleaning the fish. They had both been struck with desperate hunger after their exertions and when Levinja had suggested they eat together the young monster had agreed. 

It seemed the right thing to do. To part ways immediately after such intimacy would have been strange, and anyway… Levinja glanced at the boy as he bit his lip and scored the fish's body with his claws, scaling it – she did not want to be parted from that smooth skin and slender body, that boyish face with its glittering gold eyes so soon. Even his spiked tail, twitching in his concentration, she found charming. It had proven so useful, darting down into the water to catch their meal. 

A monster. So perhaps all monsters were not so evil as people said. But this one was a youth, after all, and she had tamed him with the gentle delights of pleasure.

He handed her the now gutted and scaled fish and she pierced it with a stick and dipped it over the fire. 

The fish was soon ready. They shared their meal. Gulilubru preferred the fish's innards and ate them, dropping them down into his hungry mouth as though they were those noodles you could buy from the street vendors in Obala. The sight surprised Levinja, but he was, after all, a monster.

They spoke a little. The boy was still adorably timid towards her, having reclaimed his shyness after they had dressed again. Strange, but Levinja had seen this before. After making love, men sometimes grew shy. This tousle-haired monster boy was little different from a human in that respect, then. 

As they talked, she learned Gulilubru had been on an errand to get water for his family when they had collided. 

“Won't they be worrying about you?” Levinja asked.

He shook his head and grinned. “No, I often wander alone. They are happy sometimes, I think, to be free of me.”

Levinja bit into the fish, delighted in the savoury juices that flooded her mouth. She felt a twinge. The boy's grin had kindled it and the deliciousness of the fish had fed the fire. 

“I would not wish to be so quickly free of you.” She thought the words, but did not say them. 

She told the boy of her quest. He listened with interest.

“It is a good plan to follow the river,” he said. “But perhaps it would be better to go this way.” And here he scored the dirt with his spiked tail and showed Levinja a path, well hidden, that he had made. “It will lead you around my village. I think, perhaps, my people will not be understanding of your quest.”

Levinja nodded. Despite the moments of intimacy between her and Gulilubru, humans and manticores were still enemies.

They were finishing their meal when Gulilubru's cocked his head.

“What is it?” whispered Levinja.

The boy frowned, shook his head and raised an open hand.

“Manticores,” he muttered. “Coming this way. You must go.”

Levinja tossed the fish aside and quickly slipped on her cuirass. 

“Hurry,” hissed Gulilubru. “There are many!”

Levinja tied on her sword. She moved to embrace Gulilubru one last time, but the fierceness of his expression and his pushing of the air with a hand stopped her. Disappointed, she turned and started down the riverbank.

She was partway along when a hand grabbed her from behind. She wheeled around, ready to strike, but it was Gulilubru. He looked up at her, his golden eyes sad, and standing on tiptoe he kissed her once, fleetingly on the lips.

“Go,” he said. 

She did not tarry. Even with the weak hearing of a human she could make out the manticores moving through the brush now. She turned and ran, her fingers glued to the burning spot where the boy's sweet lips had touched her one last time.

\----------

Later. Night. Levinja had put many miles between her and the manticores, between her and Gulilubru. Her heart stung at the memory of the boy's gleaming gold eyes and grin. She ran on. Her heart hurt. No, not her heart – her chest. It burned. 

She was out of condition, that was all. She stopped, leaned against the dark trunk of a tree, pressed her cheek against it as she sucked in air.

Her chest hurt more. No. It was not exhaustion. The wound on her thigh was burning, not the muscles from her exertion. The venom. Gulilubru's venom. Flooding her. Killing her!

Her blood surged, bringing with it a new wave of pain. Fire pooled between her legs, in her chest, beneath her armpits, in the back of her head. 

Her vision blurred. The stars swayed overhead. They were falling down upon her, falling with sparkling trails.

She slid to the ground and knew no more.

To be continued in Chapter 2: The Sweetness of Elves


	2. The Sweetness of Elves

When Levinja woke, she couldn't move. The world was enveloped in a strange, orange light.

Oh gods, is this death? This endless twilight?

No. Stupid. Her eyes were still shut and she was in a bright place, the light filtering through her eyelids. But opening her eyes proved impossible. Her body ached all over as if she'd been in a fight, an ache that reached up to the very top of her head.

A fight? No, she had lain with that manticore boy, Gulilubru. He had grazed her with his sting and given her a mild dose of his venom. Then why had she–?

Ah. Perhaps she knew why. He had come inside her and she had swallowed his semen. At the time, she had been filled with the heat of her desire and the riskiness of such things had not occurred to her. With these further doses her body had succumbed at last to Gulilubru's venom.

So she was not dead. Not yet, at least. With a great burst of willpower she pried open her eyes. Light poured in and she gasped.

Her gasp was met by another's. As she blinked she heard someone move, someone light of foot stepping quickly across a wooden floor. So she was inside. There was another there, short and slight, or one at least who was walked as though they were.

A shadow passed over the eyes and with the light masked she began to make out detail again. A face, a young face, delicately featured, with skin so pale as to be almost translucent, and eyes blue like living sapphires nestled behind long, dark eyelashes. The soft curve of the face's lips curled up into a smile.

“Oh, thank the gods! You've regained consciousness.”

The face and the high, feminine voice revealed its owner as a young girl. No, not a human girl – her long, sharp ears identified her right away as an elf. 

Levinja relaxed. Elves were monsters, it was true, but ones with a long alliance with humans. She would not likely meet with any harm at the hands of this young elf.

But still she struggled to push through this cloying fuzziness, willing her arms and legs to move, to sit her body up. The girl frowned and placed a hand on Levinja's forehead.

“Please don't move. You've been poisoned and dangerously close to death”

The elf moved away and Levinja found enough strength to turn her head. Ah, so she was inside a room. The wooden walls glowed with a gentle light, the one which had been painful to her eyes just moments ago. The room was circular, with bookshelves and tables with apparatus laid out neatly upon them. A study then, the study of a wizard perhaps.

The elf moved into her arc of vision and searched a bookshelf for a book. She was dressed in a green robe, embroidered around the edges with platinum and gold in the thin filigree only elf tailors are able to produce. Her form was clear beneath the clinging material – she was short and slender around the shoulders, but wider around the hips with that touch of voluptuousness some sylph-figured girls are blessed with. Levinja sighed. Oh, to have such a slender body again! Truly, such blessings were wasted on the young.

The elf-girl found the book and turned, her eyes alight with youthful excitement. How old was she, her late teens? Early twenties? But no, Levinja was thinking in human terms. She was likely much older, despite her youthful appearance and her childish mannerisms, mannerisms even hundred-year old elves retained.

The girl hurried back, the book floating through the air behind her like an obedient dog. It was wreathed in a golden aura. Ah, so this elf-girl was the wizard, then.

“I knew we had a book of healing magic for monster venom!” she said happily. Then she noticed Levinja moving and her smile turned to a frown. “Please, milady Levinja. I told you. Try not to move. I cast hold person on you so that the venom would not spread any further.” At Levinja's confusion the smile shyly returned. “You told me your name in your delirium, and I told you mine, although you have forgotten it no doubt. I am called Elysen.”

Levinja tried to reply, but Elysen stopped her. The elf stepped back and opened the book. As the pages flipped through by their own accord, she looked up at Levinja, suddenly embarrassed. “I'm afraid my mistress is away on a journey to collect herbs in the forest. It would have been far better for her to be here to help you. But I will do my best.”

Levinja could do nothing but stare, although she wanted to sigh in exasperation. So she was going to be a practice dummy for an acolyte wizard! Still, she had Elysen to thank that she was alive at all.

The elf clapped her hands. “Oh, here it is. Manticore venom and how to remove it.” Her eyes slipped over the open pages as the book hovered before her. She glanced at Levinja, as though the knight had asked her something. “Oh, you kept saying the name Gulilubru. A manticore name. And the wound, on your–” The elf blushed, her high cheekbones turning the same pink as a geranium flower. “It had all the marks of a manticore's sting.”

Elysen returned to her reading. She finished and closed the book slowly. Her face, revealed again, was blushing even fiercer now, red to the tips of her ears. 

“It says,” explained Elysen to Levinja's unasked question. “That the poison must be drawn out, manually. Or rather–”

She left the sentence unfinished. She moved closer to the couch, the book bobbing behind her head. Her face was apologetic.

“Please excuse me, but we need to turn you over.”

Levinja blinked. It was all she could do. Elysen took that as permission and with the flick of a slender finger through the air, Levinja's body was wrapped in a shroud of sparkling golden light. She felt herself grow light and rise off the couch. Elysen's finger curled and Levinja rolled over in the air. She slowly floated back down onto the couch again, now lying on her stomach.

Elysen brought her face closer. Her cheeks were still pink and she was so close that Levinja could feel the heat of her embarrassment. “The venom must be drawn from the wound,” she explained. “It... it should not take long.” 

Levinja blinked and arched her eyebrows, but Elysen was already out of sight. She had moved farther down the couch. Levinja felt soft hands on her bottom and her eyes went wide.

“Sorry,” said Elysen. “I hope my hands are not too cold.”

Levinja felt her tunic being drawn up, the sudden coolness of her rump as it was bared.

“Ah,” murmured Elysen. 

Hands were placed on either side of her wound, and they were not at all cold. The warmth of the smooth, soft touch made Levinja start and she felt a little surge of delight. 

Ah. She was still affected by the manticore's venom, of course. She would not usually be so sensitive, especially to the touch of another woman. 

The elf's breath, suddenly hot on Levinja's wound startled her. No doubt Elysen was examining it closely.

“P-please tell me if I hurt you,” said Elysen. 

Soft lips pressed against Levinja's skin and even despite the hold-person spell a gasp escaped from her. Elysen... Elysen was kissing her... there?

No, not kissing. Sucking. She felt the elf-girl's lips mouthing wet against her skin, felt a dull pain as heat was drawn to the wound from everywhere in her body. Her chest, between her legs, the back of her head – all the places where the venom had pooled.

Elysen murmured against her buttock. The girl's mouth felt very pleasant pressed against her skin. Levinja had only once before enjoyed the touch of a woman's mouth, long ago. When she had been a trainee of little more than eighteen summers her tent-mate, a girl from the Eastern Isles, had introduced her one drunken night to the pleasures a woman could give to another woman. It had been the only time Levinja had lain with a woman, but she still remembered it clearly – the girl's hungry mouth on her breasts, the delicate magic of her fingers, the hot poker of her wine-sticky tongue between her legs and her buttocks.

Levinja preferred men, but the experience had not been one she regretted. And now… and now this slim young girl was kissing her on the butt… no, not kissing – drawing out the venom. Not the kisses of love-making, but a medical procedure. And yet…

The venom surged through Levinja, as though fighting back with a final burst of heat before leaving her. Her wound under Elysen's lips burned like fire and Levinja cried out.

“Ah!”

Her voice! She could speak!

She felt the spell weaken on her, fail. Elysen stepped away from her, but not out of alarm. Her pink cheeks were swollen and a thin crimson line trickled from the corner of her mouth.

With a flick of her finger a silver basin bobbed through the air to hover in front of her and Elysen bent her head and spat up the mouthful of blood and saliva. A handkerchief flew to her and she wiped away the red smear on her lips. 

“It is done,” she said.

Levinja raised herself on an elbow and tried to sit up, but a flash of dizziness made her stop. Elysen was beside her, her pale, warm hands supporting her.

“Please, don't overexert yourself.”

“I want to–”

Elysen smiled. “Of course. Let me help you.”

Gold light sparkled and with the help of magic the elf helped Levinja up into a sitting position.

As soon as Elysen saw that Levinja was not in danger of collapsing again, she moved towards the table where all the apparatus were laid out. She drew water from a barrel, rinsed her mouth, spat it out into a sink, then drew another mug of water and trotted back to Levinja.

She handed the mug to the knight and dabbed at her own wet mouth with the handkerchief. 

“My thanks,” murmured Levinja. Her voice felt strange in her mouth after not using it for so long. She drank deep of the water.

Elysen smiled behind the handkerchief, her cheeks dimpling. She was blushing still, her cheeks and ears the colour of rose.

“I– I did not hurt you?”

Levinja, if she was the blushing type, would have blushed at the question. “Ah, no. No, your lips were very gentle.”

Elysen drew the handkerchief away. Her smile was wide behind it, a row of perfect white teeth. “Oh, I am glad!”

But suddenly the elf-girl's face took on a strange cast. Her knees buckled beneath her and she slumped forward. Levinja grabbed her as she fell. 

“Elysen?”

The elf looked up at her, her wide blue eyes strangely unfoccussed. “I felt a bit dizzy.” Then her eyes rolled back and Levinja was forced to take all her weight. “Oh, I feel so strange!”

But just as quickly as the weakness had come, it passed. Elysen, with Levinja supporting her, regained her footing. She glanced across at the knight, apologetic. 

“I'm so sorry,” she murmured. “I– I don't now what came over me. Sometimes, after we use magic, we suffer fatigue, but...”

Elysen gasped and Levinja leaned forward to catch her, but she did not fall this time. She closed her eyes, pressed her hands against her chest and gasped again.

“This… this feeling!”

“The venom–” began Levinja.

Elysen shook her head. “Elves are immune to manticore venom. No… no there is something else.”

The elf ran her hands down the front of her robe, as though following the trail of some sensation moving through her body. Levinja took hold of Elysen's narrow shoulders and the elf cried out.

“No!” she cried. “No, please… your touch. Your touch!”

Levinja grew anxious. “Are you in pain?”

Elysen bit her lip, shook her head. “No, no… not pain. There is… oh the gods!”

Her hands were on her lower abdomen now, bunching up the material of her robe. She gasped and doubled over.

Levinja lifted the elf up underneath her armpits and helped the little creature onto the couch. It was like lifting a child – Elysen barely weighed anything at all. She sat down, still clutching at her abdomen.

Levinja took hold of the elf's hands. “Wait, let me see.”

“No,” muttered Elysen, shaking her head. “No, don't!”

But Levinja would not allow any delay. The elf was clearly suffering, and she had to see what was causing her distress. She pulled Elysen's hands away. The material of her robe remained bunched up, as though something was protruding from her pelvic area. It almost looked as though the elf was sporting an…

...an erection?

Levinja let go of one hand and brought her own to the peaked material. Elysen tried to stop her, but Levinja shook her off and gently explored the shape beneath the elf's robe. Yes, there was no mistaking it. The hard, hot length of a male member.

Elysen gasped and the hardness in Levinja's hand jerked. 

She looked across at him, bemused. “Elysen, you're a boy?”

The elf avoided her gaze. “Of course I am,” he protested. 

Levinja arched her eyebrows. She'd assumed Elysen was a girl based on the pretty delicacy of his features, the highness of his voice, the feminine width of his hips. His flat-chestedness, then, was no longer at all surprising.

Levinja lifted the hem of his robe. The elf gasped and shook his head, but she patted his hand gently.

“I just want to check everything is alright.”

That everything was alright? A foolish thing to say. Of course, being a knight, Levinja was trained in field medicine, but magical maladies were not within her scope of experience. No, it was a poor excuse. She merely wanted to see the delightful hardness she 'd felt in her hand. 

Elysen watched her, his blue eyes huge, as she drew the robe up off his knees to his thighs.

“Lift your bottom a moment,” said Levinja. Elysen, with the obedience of a child, did as he was told, but his eyes never left Levinja's hands. 

She pulled the robe up to his bellybutton and the elf's erection sprang forth. Like most magic-users, he wasn't wearing anything under his robe – constricting clothes are a hindrance to magic, after all – and Levinja, in her selfishness, was happy of the fact. 

Elysen, despite having such a girlish figure, was nicely equipped as a male. His member stood proud, a dramatic pink between his pale thighs, the head already slick with desire. 

“Manticore venom,” murmured Levinja. She brought a hand to the boy's erection, touched it with her fingertips. It jerked.

“Oh!” gasped Elysen. “N-no, no I said before. Elves are immune to manticore venom. It's … it's...” He dropped his gaze, his face flushing even pinker than his lewdly rigid member. “It is desire.”

Levinja stifled a laugh. “Oh,” she said. “Desire. Of course it is.”

Elysen shook his head. “No, not my own, although now...” His chest heaved. “When I drew the venom from you, I drew a small amount of your life force with your blood.”

Levinja frowned. “My life force?”

Elysen nodded. “But only a little. It's an unavoidable part of the spell. Usually there is no problem, but your life force...” He bit his lip. “Oh, but your life force was thick with desire.”

Levinja watched the boy's heaving stomach beneath the bunched-up material. Pale and hairless, he really did have a girlish body. It looked soft to the touch, but she resisted the urge to run her hands up along those delicious thick thighs.

“And the cure?” asked Levinja.

Elysen's eyes were hooded, heavy with his need. “This has happened before. I– I must just endure it.”

Levinja's lips curled in amusement. “Endure it? Oh, but it is simplicity itself to calm yourself of such desire.” 

Elysen blinked. “Calm... myself?”

Levinja stood up. “Surely you know. All boys are born knowing this wisdom.” She felt her face grow hot. Stupid, that such a conversation should embarrass her! But she remembered back to similar conversations she had had with her sons. Oh, she had missed her husband's presence more than anything on those days! The words stuck dry in her mouth and instead she took Elysen's hand and placed it between his legs.

Elysen's eyes went wide. “Oh, no. No. I cannot do that.”

Levinja laughed. “There is no sin in it,” she said.”Despite what some old monks might say.”

Elysen dropped his gaze. “No, I am forbidden from doing it. I am under a geas.”

“A geas?”

“My mistress – she placed it on me when I entered her service. I cannot do it, no matter how much I should desire it. Taking pleasure from oneself depletes magical energy and she has forbidden it.”

Levinja did not much like this revelation. To place a spell on a young man and prevent him from the most harmless of diversions! It did not seem natural. She thought back to her own torment, the desire which had inflamed her blood as she had languished in her cell at the Convent, and that venomous desire too that Gulilubru had filled her with.

Elysen's pale chest was heaving and he clutched at the edge of the couch, his slender hands curled like claws. 

Poor thing! And it was her own desire that was putting him through such torment. 

Levinja felt her blood kindle. As she looked upon the slender young elf before her, naked from the waist down, his masculine member shapely and proud and a delightful contrast with his wide-eyed vulnerable face, her desire, free of venom, pure and all her own, flooded her.

She lifted a hand to Elysen's brow, stroked it. “This is my fault,” she murmured. “So I will take responsibility for it.”

Elysen's brow was moist with sweat and he leaned into her stroking like a cat. “But milady, I–”

“Please,” said Levinja. “Call me Levinja.”

She leaned over and brought her lips to his. The kiss was fleeting, gentle, but not a little teasing and it left the young boy gasping as she pulled away. He lifted a finger to his lips, touched them as though they had been burnt.

Levnija smiled. “See? The medicine for your affliction is not so bad.”

Elysen looked across at her, his lips parted. It seemed such a small dose of medicine had done little for the desire pouring through him. His proud member gave no sign of calming. 

“A kiss,” the boy murmured.

Lenvinja came close again. “Surely you have been kissed before,” she said.

Elysen frowned. “By my mother, and my sisters.”

Levinja chuckled. “A different kind of kiss, surely, to this one.”

This time the boy gasped as the kiss began. She brushed her mouth across his, her lips making the slightest of contact, the nerves aflame with sensitivity. She drank his sweet breath, delighted in the warmth emanating from his mouth and brought her hands to his chin and cupped it. His skin was so smooth! Warm, but not the heat of Gulilubru the manticore – rather, a marble heat, the gentle tingling warmth of a magical being. Her fingertips met the softness of the lock of hair before his ears, softer even than velvet. 

Levinja could not longer tease herself or the boy. She pushed her lips against his, slipped a hot and hungry tongue into his mouth. She had but sampled the deliciousness of his kiss earlier with the tap of her tongue, but now she allowed herself to be greedy, dipping her tongue deep inside the hot cavern of his mouth. 

Elysen pushed his lips back as though mouthing hers, the movements of one who did not know yet how to kiss, and his tongue slipped about his mouth, unsure where it should be. Levinja chased it with her own, enjoying the game, tilting his head so that she could kiss him more deeply, backing that gentle, timid tongue against his palate so that it had no choice but to submit to the caresses of her own. 

He leaned back, not fighting her but unsure of what he should do. Still his hands clutched the edge of the couch. Levinja covered him, delighted by his timidity, the innocent clumsiness of his kiss turning her loins liquid.

Her breasts hung free and heavy and she was glad there was no need to wrestle herself out of her armour as she had done with Gulilubru. Her cuirass lay in a corner of the room, removed earlier, no doubt by Elysen when he had rescued her. Her breast wrapping had been removed as well. How had he done it? She could not imagine the shy elf doing it with his own hands. No, no doubt he had used magic, turning his back so as not to be scandalised by glimpses of her nakedness.

She broke the kiss at last. Elysen's eyes remained hooded with drowsy pleasure and his lips, glistening with saliva, hung open. His chest heaved, mirroring Levinja's own. 

She took her hands from his chin and his eyes flew opened. His face was flushed, a stark contrast with the snowy-white colour of the rest of his skin. The sight charmed her, as did the clear signs of desire heavy in his huge blue eyes. 

“You took your medicine like a good child,” Levinja murmured. “But that is just the start.”

She lifted one of his hands to her chest. She ached there and she knew he would enjoy the heaviness of her breasts, given the obsession shared by all males, elf or human. The fire inside her was growing and she needed to feel the boy's hands on her, feel his soft cool flesh against her own. The kiss had done little to calm them both, despite her words. Perhaps his touch would prove a surer balm…

Elysen swallowed as Levinja slipped his hand down the top of her tunic and under the swelling of one breast. It was more than a handful for him. She let go of his wrist but he made no move beyond hefting her breast.

“You won't hurt me,” she breathed. “Your touch is gentle, sweet Elysen. Please do whatever you wish.”

The elf, his eyes as big as saucers now, stared down the front of her tunic as he gave the breast in his hand a gentle squeeze. Levinja gasped. Boys! They always wanted to squeeze. Perhaps it was instinctive, from when they were children, kneading their mother's breast so that she would exude more milk for them. 

Her gasp startled him. “Did I hurt you?”

Levinja shook her head and took his other hand, still clinging to the couch. She brought it alongside its twin and soon the boy was cupping the weight of both her breasts in his hands. 

He did not squeeze again, but ran his fingers around the curve of her breasts, the fingertips light on her soft skin. Oh gods, how did the boy know how to do that? His hands pressed against the hardness of her nipples, flicked them, and Levinja cried out. 

She grabbed his arms at the elbows, pressed him back on the couch and sought out his mouth with her own again. 

The boy put up a struggle, but he quickly melted into her kiss. He had come to enjoy kissing, Levinja knew, and she stifled a happy chuckle against his lips.

She let her hands slip up his arms and under the sleeves of his robe to run across the smooth softness of his chest and collarbone. She needed to see more. Lying back had made the hem of his robe fall back down and his nakedness was hidden from her again. Pouting, Levinja slid a hand between his slender legs to his thighs and lifted the hem up. He was still delightfully erect.

Elysen opened his eyes in surprise and pulled away from the kiss. “Wh– what are you doing?” 

Levinja grinned. “Surely you know about men and women,” she said. “How they lay together? Did your mother not teach you?”

Elysen shook his head. “I never knew her. But I do know about… men and women.” He dropped his gaze. “I have read of it.”

Levinja chuckled. “As with all things, the theory and practice are different. I am sure there are many things your book did not tell of.” And with that she brought her face down between his legs and planted a single kiss on the tip of his rigid member. 

The boy gasped and pulled himself on his elbows in time to see Levinja, grinning, slide his hardness into her mouth. 

The smoothness of his sex felt exquisite in her mouth and he was already wet with his desire. Her teasing had worked well. She drew her mouth up, let her tongue slip beneath the head, and she tasted a wave of salty-sweetness spill forth from him. But happily this was merely an overflowing of desire – he was still far from reaching his climax. 

Soft pants came quick from the boy as he watched her, eyes boggling. She met his gaze, smiling with her own eyes, delighted by the look of shock mixed with desire contorting his girlish face. He really was too pretty to be a boy. She ran her hands along his skin, enjoying the contrast between the childish tenderness of his flesh beneath her fingers and the hardness sliding between her lips.

Levinja shut her eyes to more fully savour the sensations flooding her. Her own desire flared as she pleasured him and a familiar stickiness seeped down between her thighs. 

Elysen rested his hands gently on her head. Ah, just like all meales he feared she would pull away. He need not have worried. Levinja was enjoying spoiling him and did not want this to end too soon. Perhaps she was enjoying teasing herself as well. The boy had never lain with a woman before and she did not want to leave him with a memory of disappointment.

She felt him grow harder inside her mouth, the soft skin of his cute testicles becoming taut against her chin. She slowed her pleasuring, then pulled away, letting him pop from her mouth. His member was so slick and red, so aggressive in contrast to his trembling slender body! 

Elysen looked at her, his face desperate with disappointment. “Is– is that it?” he murmured.

This time Levinja did not restrain her laugh. “Oh no! There is much more to come.” And she wondered, then, just how informative that book of his had really been. 

She lifted Elysen off the couch and he let her, compliant as a child. As she put him on his feet, she took the opportunity to lift his robe off his body. Ah! The paleness of his legs and thighs continued across his flat belly and the gentle curve of his chest. He was slender, it was true, but his body, with the softness of one who has dedicated his life to study, was girlishly plump in the chest and thighs. 

The sight of him blushing, his eyes wide and fragile with shame as his hands timidly attempted to cover his lewdly erect sex, inflamed her. She pulled him against her, her hands taking their fill of his curved buttocks, his smooth back, the velvet softness of his gold hair. 

Elysen embraced her back, pressed his body against hers. Ah, the hardness against her thighs! It gave no sign of calming. She kissed the boy's head, smelling the sweetness of his hair. 

She pulled away at last, let her hands drop from his exquisite body. She took the hem of her tunic in her hands, and grinning lifted it up past her thighs. Her heart boiled with a lewd delight. The boy's book had no doubt been illustrated, but drawings could not do justice to a truly naked woman. 

She bunched up the hem, drew it higher, revealing the dark patch of her pubic hair, the smooth flatness of her belly. The boys eyes fell upon her naked sex and grew wider still. 

Still grinning, Levinja pulled the tunic up over her breasts, letting the material catch on them purposefully so that they bounced as they popped free at last. Elysen's eyes were drawn to them immediately and Levinja, playful, gave a little hop as she pulled the bunched tunic up off her shoulders and arms and tossed it aside. 

She stood fully naked before him. “Now we are even,” she said. She ran her hands down along her sides – ah, she could still feel the firmness of her ribs there! – and down over her stomach. A gentle curve now, where before it had been flat as shale, but she was not displeased. Her body felt light, ready. Perhaps the exertions of the past few days had reminded her of those years, long ago, when she had been at the peak of warrior fitness. 

But now it was no dragon that faced her but a boy, eyes wide, trying to hide his naked desire. She padded over to him, letting her hips and breasts sway, taking a shameful pleasure in how she intimidated him. He stepped back and she took hold of his hands, lifted them to her breasts and left them there. Her own hands she let slip down his body, one to rest on his buttocks, the other between his legs.

She stroked his length and he cried out. 

“Did your book tell you how men and women lay together?” she asked.

Elysen said nothing, but swallowed and nodded.

“There are many ways,” said Levinja. “But perhaps this is the best way for one who lacks experience.”

The boy flushed and dropped his gaze, and Levinja, regretting her choice of words, kissed him on the forehead. “There is no shame in innocence, gentle Elysen.”

How could she tell him that it was just this innocence which inflamed her so, that made her blood race through her veins and her sex slick with desire? Her own shame stopped her from speaking it, but she took his hand and slipped it between her legs.

“This is your doing,” she murmured. 

Elysen explored her timidly with his fingers. His gentle touch was like fire against the sticky heat of her sex and she gasped. He grew bolder, but was still gentle, and Levinja's heart melted as her body did. 

“I know something that will feel better still than even your sweet fingers,” she whispered.

She led him to the couch, where she laid down on her back and pulled him on top of her. His hardness poked her between her thighs and she bit back a cry. 

“Here,” she said, kissing his white neck while she guiding his erection. She pressed the head against her button, greedy for pleasure, and this time she could not stop herself from crying out. Elysen gasped and she felt him shudder. Levinja knew well how sensitive the tip of a man's member was. 

But she had done all the teasing she wished to. She drew back her knees and slipped him inside her.

For all his inexperience Elysen knew what to do. He moved his hips forward, his pretty face grimacing with the intensity of this new-found pleasure as he slid into her. 

Levinja's body gave barely any resistance, so slick was she with desire. She no longer felt the burning heat of the manticore's venom, that sickly need – now a vibrant flame flowed through her, a liquid tension she remembered well. She was glad she could be gentle with this kind, timid boy.

But for all his fragility, he soon showed himself to be a man. Ah, they are all born having the instinct of what to do when engulfed by a lustful woman, and even the timid Elysen was no exception! The pleasure filling him urged on the rolling of his hips as he ploughed his delightful hardness into her over and over and Levinja found herself gasping with every thrust. There was no need to exaggerate her pleasure, as sometimes there was when lying with a man, especially an inexperienced one, for Elysen's natural grace as an elf soon taught him the rhythm that brought pleasure to them both. Levinja could not resist humping back, desiring more of him inside her, guiding his smooth buttocks with one hand while she pulled his heaving chest against her breasts with the other and drank deeply of his sweet, desperate moans.

His thrusts became more eager, the moist panting of his mouth faster, his member deep inside her harder still and Levinja knew he was close. She could have wished this first time to last forever, but as it was the boy had acquitted himself admirably. Her other hand slipped down so that she held his buttocks in both, delighting in the smooth muscle rippling beneath his soft skin as he eagerly penetrated her. 

They each pulled away from the kiss, hungry for air, him grunting and her gasping beneath him. His eyes were unseeing now, blue and deep and focussed on some faraway point, trying to cope with the strange new intensity of pleasure surging through him. The floods of delight pouring along Levinja's veins, though, were well-known to her, and she welcomed them. Elysen's flushed face, contorted in erotic agony, his open, panting mouth, the tiny flash of a wet tongue from within – Levinja fed off his pleasure, redoubling her own, and when he finally came with a loud cry, she cried out too. 

Liquid fire spilled into her, once, twice, three times, giving no sign of weakening. He was filling her to overflowing! And still he thrust into her, giving her no respite. Nor did Levinja wish it – she hooked her feet behind his legs, trapping him, squeezed his sweat-slick buttocks and pushed him into her, as though she was the one draining him. 

Elysen's eyes were impossibly huge and as Levinja gazed into them she saw the golden specks hiding deep within. Ah, but it was easy to forget that the boy was no human, but a monster! The gold grew thicker, a dancing constellation as he panted out the last of his pleasure, and then the gold vanished, subsumed deep within the cerulean again and he blinked. He looked down at Levinja, as though waking from a dream, and his face took on its familiar shyness, but the smile that graced his lips was mischievous and proud. 

The boyishness of the look melted her and she pulled him closer to her and kissed his face and sweat-slick hair over and over.

“Oh, but you did so well, my beautiful Elysen!”

The boy said nothing, but pushed his face between her breasts. She knew from the heat of his skin that he was blushing. She held him there, shushing him like a child, letting her hands slip over the gorgeous smoothness of his back. 

Soon he grew soft and she rolled him off her. He looked across, startled, his eyes showing he had began to nod off to sleep.

Levinja drew a hand between her legs, felt the cold stickiness there. She sat up, looked around.

“Wh– what are you looking for?” asked Elysen, his voice drowsy.

“A cloth or something similar,” said Levinja. “To… well, cleanse us.”

Elysen blushed. “Oh, of course.”

He lifted a hand and his fingers danced an intricate symbol in the air. But no gold light came. He tried again, but again nothing happened, no fault of the graceful movement of his fingers. He drew them to his face, stared at them as though they were in some way faulty.

He smiled ruefully and shook his head. “My magic,” he said. “I- I think it must have been drained.”

He glanced across at Levinja, who found herself flushing. Yes, she had drained him well, but she had not expected to drain him of all his magic at once!

She stood up, feeling guilty. “I will get it myself.”

Elysen, his face apologetic, indicated a set of drawers on the other side of the room. Levinja, with that post-coital embarrassment in her nakedness, went and got the cloth and trotted back. 

She helped Elysen cleanse his body and then did the same for herself.

Elysen sighed. “I did not know it would be so messy.”

Levinja chuckled. “That is your fault, my little healer. So very much of you flowed out.”

Levinja folded the cloth and placed it on the floor, then sat back on the couch and hugged him around the waist. 

“Lay with me,” she murmured. “So often men wish to leave right away. But please lay here beside me.”

Elysen said nothing but slid onto the couch beside her. She pulled him close. Oh, but he was so much smaller than her, almost a doll. No, that was an exaggeration. 

Her caressing hand explored his body and he muttered happily into her chest. Levinja felt sleep overcoming her, but she fought it off. No, she wished to enjoy caressing this boy more. 

Soon Elysen grew quiet and she realised he had fallen asleep. Her caresses took on a pantomime furtiveness, as though she was doing something wrong, but the truth was she did not want to wake him. She enjoyed every curve of his still, naked body – the wide sweep of those girlish hips, the softness of his bottom, the roundness of his thighs. Gods, but his body was a paradise to the touch!

Even under her squeezes and stroking Elysen did not wake, although part of him did. Levinja felt him grow hard against her side. What, he was growing ready again? Ah, but he was a young man. Gulilubru had been the same. 

She lowered a hand between his legs, found the cute little length unfurling and growing boyishly arrogant again. Her stroking fingers helped it and soon she was holding a delightful erection in her hand, no less hard than the earlier. 

Her own desire kindled again and she felt sleepy no longer. She slipped her arm from around Elysen and he muttered. There was ample space on the couch for her to turn around and she did, being careful not to wake the boy. She assumed that delightful position where male and female are able to equally pleasure each other with their mouths, but with the boy asleep she would have no tongue upon her.

She sighed. Well, once again she had taken her pleasure from a youth and surely he deserved some compensation after she stole away his magic. She again took him in her hand, enjoyed the smooth hardness of it, shamelessly examining every inch of it closely now that she had the opportunity. Ah, but each one of these was unique and Elysen's manhood was a particularly adorable example. Although elves were by no means monstrously endowed, the shape and smoothness and the lack of pubic hair excited her. 

She stroked it and he murmured, happily it seemed. Was he dreaming of her? Or of someone else?

Levinja found herself strangely jealous of the young man's dreams. Still, what did it matter if he was dreaming of someone else? She had taken him first and he would never forget her. Every woman he laid with after this would be compared to her, Levinja Verada.

The thought delighted her. She stroked him again, gently, not wishing to wake him.

He did not wake, although he murmured again. A dew-drop appeared at the tip of his member and Levinja hungrily dipped her tongue into it. He tasted delightful. Where Gulilubru had been thick and salty and pungent, Elysen was lightly fragrant with a hint of sweetness. 

Ah, it must be his nature, then. She licked the head, enjoying the chance to explore the a male's member without him desperately seeking to penetrate her lips. She licked it underneath and it jerked.

She could not wait any longer. She drew him into her mouth and let the ring of her lips slide down the entire length until the head was at the back of her throat. 

Elysen groaned. She drew her lips back until the head slid across her lips, leaving a trail of delicious liquid. His magic may have been drained, but his semen had not. In fact, this time, trained by her, he was producing a profuse amount, almost as though he was already climaxing. But she could tell from his gentle murmurs, the twitching of his fingers, that he was still far from the summit of his pleasure. 

Levinja slid her hands between his flush thighs, enjoying the softness of the generous flesh there. He finger found the cleft between his buttocks and she ran her fingertips over the warm roughness of the boy's anus. 

Just some gentle stroking. She knew how much males enjoyed it. 

Elysen gasped and squirmed, but still did not wake. Levinja continued to play with him, but gentler now. 

She felt his member grow even harder in her mouth as she bobbed up and down. He began to roll his hips, as though fearing she would withdraw him from her mouth.

There was no need. She had every intention of spoiling the boy, of suckling him until he filled her mouth to overflowing as he had her womb. 

She murmured happily as she let him thrust into her mouth. Ah, but there was a wonderful delight to have a male lose control due to your ministrations! She did not begrudge him his pleasure as she breathed through her nose and let him penetrate her mouth. She squeezed a beautiful buttock in her hands, drew him closer so that his maleness could go deeper. Luckily, Levinja had had practice and did not gag, even when his thrusts became wild.

Elysen gasped and for a moment she thought he was coming. She drew back, wishing to taste and feel the initial blast of his ejaculation on the whole of her tongue and not lose any down her throat, but as she did he pulled back and his penis popped out. It bobbed before her, slick and pink, the head lewdly drooling. 

“No!” gasped Elysen from above her. He began to sit up and Levinja, startled, moved her face away. Ah! If only she had not taken her time, she could have managed to make him come while still asleep. She looked up at his blue eyes, bluer than she remembered, his face flushed with desire. 

“My apologies,” she said, begging to sit up herself.. “I was–”

But Elysen ignored her. He took hold of her shoulders and gently pressed her back down. There was no violence in the motion, just need, and Levinja, delighted, slipped her mouth back onto his hardness. 

With Elysen now sitting back on the couch, Levinja decided to change position. She kept his member in her mouth and climbed off the couch backwards so that she now kneeling on all fours on the floor before him. She glanced up at him, saw his deep blue eyes drink deep of her naked form. It was as she had intended. Few males can resist the sight of a woman so arrayed before them, the curve of her buttocks high in the air, the length of her naked back stretched out as she ministers to their sex with her mouth. She made a show of it, wiggling her bottom and bobbing her head, behaving as lewdly as she dared without seeming ridiculous. She murmured happily as she drew her tongue up and down his length, savouring his taste and scent.

The boy gasped and lifted his hips off the couch, driving himself deeper into her mouth.

Levinja's heart surged with joy at how quickly the sight of her nakedness had pushed him towards the culmination of his desire. She thrust both hands between her legs, finding herself even wetter than before. She plunged three fingers inside, let the fingertips of her other hand, smeared with her juices, dance across her engorged button.

She gasped just as he was drawing back and he popped free of her lips. Moving to recapture his hardness, she brushed the jerking head with her lips. 

Elysen cried out.

The sudden violence of his voice startled her, but not as much as the thick stream of semen that splashed across her open lips and into her mouth. He was coming! He ejaculated again, this time the liquid happily falling mostly on her tongue before she managed to catch the spurting length between her lips and slide it back into her mouth. Her mouth filled and she swallowed as Elysen groaned and panted, his fingers threading through her hair.

The sweet, thick taste overfilling her mouth and his desperate, ecstatic cries drove her over the edge. She plunged her fingers deeper inside and shuddered, rolling her hips as her slickness tightened around them, blisteringly hot.

Her body trembled uncontrollably with her climax but she continued to suckle on him even as he grew soft. At last Elysen cried out from oversensitivity and pushed her head gently away. Levinja let him pop from her mouth and licked her lips. 

Elysen stared down at her, mouth open and wetly panting, a look of exhausted disbelief on his beautiful face. Ha! Levinja had spoiled him for every girl, now. What elf-maid could pleasure him like she had done? 

Her heart brimming with affection, she fought back her own languid exhaustion and rose up, sliding herself over him to press her breasts against his still heaving chest and kiss his wet, rosebud mouth. He was too drained to kiss back very hard, but Levinja enjoyed the stolen nature of his kisses and his submissiveness. 

“It seems I've drained you fully now,” she murmured between kisses. “I'm sorry, my sweet boy.”

She pulled him down beside her on the couch and let her hands explore him as before, though this time the intensity of their lovemaking had driven all but the gentle glow of her passion from her. Elysen closed his eyes and as he sleepily pressed his tongue against hers sleep finally found Levinja as well.

\---------------------

“Must you go?”

Levinja, sitting on the couch as she fitted her cuirass, looked across at the young elf and nodded. “I must complete my quest.”

The boy came up to her, touched her cheek with a timid hand. “I know. But must you go now?”

Levinja took his hand in hers and smiled at him. She had woken from her sleep to find Elysen's hands exploring her body and passion had quickly surged up in her again. Lying on her back, she had pulled him atop her again, crying out as his hardness slid inside her. Though their lovemaking had been gentler, slower this time, it had not been long before he again filled her to overflowing with both pleasure and his boiling semen. 

That had been the last effort either was capable of. And although Levinja ached with desire at the boy's gentle neediness, to tarry any longer would be a sin. 

“If I do not go now I will never leave,” she said. Her words touched him and Elysen's face flashed with a boyish delight mixed with longing. 

She took him in her embrace, but it was difficult wearing her cuirass. Instead, she pushed him down and kissed him. The softness of his lips and the sweetness of his saliva kindled again that flame deep in her chest and between her legs and a risky thought sprang unbidden to her mind.

“Elysen, would you perhaps not like to join me on my journey?” she said quickly, as though if she hesitated she would not be able to say the words. “I have need of a healer.”

This time it was the boy whose eyes filled with regret. He shook his head. 

“I still have much to learn about healing,” he said. “And I cannot abandon my mistress.”

Levinja nodded. “Of course.” She had in no way expected him to say yes, but she had needed to say how she felt. 

She and Elysen and ate a small meal and shared tea, and afterwards the elf boy pressed several small vials into her hands. 

“These are healing potions,” he said to her inquiring look. “I brewed them myself. They will heal you of poison and of minor wounds.” He frowned. “Please, be careful. It is far between here and the Tower of Maona and there are many monsters.”

Levinja stashed the potions away, then returned and kissed him, a final, chaste, motherly kiss on the cheek. “I will be careful.”

And with that she could tarry no longer. Elysen led her down the steps from the little tree house and Levinja saw for the fist time that they were high among the trees. Such a beautiful place! Truly, his mistress was a lucky woman to share such a beautiful place with the gorgeous elf-boy. 

Halfway down they stopped. He said nothing, but the glimmer of wetness in his eyes told her everything. He could not go any farther. His heart would not let him. Levinja took his chin in her hands, kissed his mouth, making a lie of that last, chaste kiss. 

“Thank you Elysen,” she said.

And then she turned and climbed down the steps to the forest floor. She found the courage to look back one final time before the track led her out of view of the little tree-house and she saw him there, still standing on the steps. He raised his hand and she raised hers, and then she turned and with tears in her eyes broke into a jog.

To be continued in Part 3 Wrestling with Wolves


	3. Wrestling with Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levinja doubles her fun with twin wolf-boys.

Levinja pulled her sword from the carcass of the dragon and wiped the green blood from the blade on its scaly hide with a cluck of her tongue. 

This part of the wilderness had proven to be particularly dangerous. This had only been a wyvern, it was true, a smaller variety of the species, but it had given her a tough fight. She leaned against the creature's flank and waited for her heart to stop racing and for the tang of adrenaline to leave her mouth. 

The Convent seemed far away, now, although in truth she had been gone for only a few weeks. But already her body remembered the old ways, and delighted in them. She squeezed a thigh and was pleased. She seemed to have lost a little weight with all the combat.

All the combat, and all the… She smiled ruefully. What would the Mother Superior say if she knew of Levinja's other adventures on the road to the Tower of Mahana?

Beneath the pleasant tiredness of her exertion, she felt a twinge. Ah, not again! What was it with combat that set her blood running? She had always been particularly rampant and demanding of her husband when she had returned from campaign. 

She thought back to the bronze, hard body of Gulilubru and to the soft sweetness of Elysen. Oh, but she wished they had been able come with her on her quest! She would have been well provided for by both young men. Gulilubru would have been able to take her from behind while she ministered to Elysen's beautiful…

A hot, wet flush between her legs. No. To sit here and think of such things was foolishness. She should be on her way. Wyverns were not solitary creatures.

Levinja continued on her journey. She skirted a little lake until she found the river which fed it. The land was wild around here and without the paths cut by water and other natural phenomenon, she would have had to resort to cutting through the bush. 

The rocky banks of the river were forested. Not easy going, but safe at least from any sign of monsters. Then the rocks and trees ended abruptly and she came upon a pleasant meadow. Soft grass replaced the hard treacherous smoothness of the rocks and she broke into a jog. Ah, but the grass was greener than any she had seen, even in the gardens of the Imperial capital, and she took a sensuous delight in the way it brushed against her calves.

Levinja decided to take a break. Part of the meadow here was sheltered by a low hillock – a perfect place for her to rest and yet keep half an eye on any threat which might approach. She undid her cuirass and placed it beside her as she lay back. The grass was a wonderful bed and the gentle slope meant she did not need to raise her head to keep the meadow in her sight. 

She breathed deep of the earthy freshness of the greenery as the blades of grass tickled her ears and neck. Oh, she wished they were the gentle fingers of some lover teasing her!

She flooded again. Gods, was there no end to her hunger? Her hands rest on her thighs, tempting her. Oh, there was every reason to do it. If she could not draw her mind from the delights of laying with another, then she would be distracted if a threat did present itself. With an indulgent sigh she placed the heel of one palm between her legs and pushed down.

She was already swimming, the moisture brimming from her. She closed her eyes and remembered how she had brought the manticore boy to completion in her mouth as he lay back on the river rock, at how Elysen had so readily mounted her and rutted her from behind with an enthusiasm she had not expected from the pretty elf-boy.

Yes, delightful memories, and all the more delightful brought together in one fantasy!

The fight was already well underway when Levinja finally noticed the two monsters tumbling over each other in the green meadow below. Her hand flew from between her legs and she grabbed her cuirass, cursing her greedy lewdness.

But her hands stopped in the middle of tying the leather thongs and she let her armour fall back. The monsters were even more distracted than she had been, totally engrossed in their own fight.

As Levinja watched she caught flashes of pointed triangular ears among the grey-black mops of their hair, the flick of long, furry tails, the tangle of furry paws and feet. Like Gulilubru, they were young beastmen types, but what kind exactly?

One of the two monsters swung himself on top of the other who had fallen back gasping to the grass. The victor was slightly shorter, his hair a darker chocolate-brown with a stripe of white down the centre. As he held down his opponent, a grin coming to his panting face. He raised his tail in an arrogant display of triumph and lifted his face and howled.

Ah, so they were wolfmen! Well, wolf-boys anyway.

The victor's high howl dropped away and he looked down at his defeated companion, his gold eyes glittering in triumph. “I win again, brother!” 

His brother, inflamed by his words, squirmed violently and kicked up his legs. He managed to push his distracted opponent off him and the battle started anew. 

Levinja sat back and watched, amused. The boys were no threat. Even if they weren't totally embroiled in their own battle, they were young monsters. The taller one, the one with the lighter coloured hair and widely spaced eyes who was now pummelling his opponent around the face with flashes of his paws, seemed from his serious face to be the older of the two.

What at first seemed to have been a play-battle soon turned into an earnest one. The younger wolf-boy, harassed by the punches of his brother, leaped on top of him, a snarling ball of furious furry paws and feet. The older fell backwards onto the grass and the stripy-haired one darted forward his advantage, taking his opponent's ear in his mouth.

The older wolf-boy howled in pain. He shook his ear free then snapped back at his brother who leaped away and landed on all fours, snarling. 

Soon the melee was joined again, with the two boys biting at each other as they scuffled. Yelps of pain and anger filled the air.

Levinja stood up. She had seen enough. The maternal side of her couldn't stand to watch the fight any longer. The fight had grown bitter and sooner or later one of the boys would injure the other. She had to do something.

She ran down from the hillock and stood near the rolling ball of clawed paws and snapping, snarling wolf-boys. She'd planned on separating them physically, but seeing the flashes of their white teeth and sharp claws made her think twice. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips and yelled at them.

“You two, stop that right now!” 

She recognised the tone of her voice, the mixture of disappointment and rehearsed anger that every mother instinctively applies to recalcitrant children. How many times had she used it on her own sons when their rough-housing had threatened to spiral out of control?

The two wolf-boys stopped fighting immediately. The older one had temporarily got the upper hand and was holding his brother down, but in his surprise he let go. Two pairs of furry ears pricked up as they looked at her. 

“A... a female?” said the older, glancing down at his brother.

“A human female,” said the younger. He used the opportunity to slip free.

The two sat back on their haunches and stared at her. The red anger in their eyes was quickly fading, replaced with a cautious curiosity.

Levinja, still in her persona of disappointed mother, clucked her tongue. “Why are you two fighting? You're brothers, aren't you?'

The older nodded, but it was the younger who spoke. “My name is Remel, and this is my brother Romul.”

“I'm the oldest,” said Romul quickly.

Remel rolled his eyes. “Only by a few minutes, brother.”

Levinja's eyes scanned the two of them. So they were twins? There was more than a passing similarity between the two, now that she saw them close up. Despite the patches of blood and dirt on their fur and their tousled hair, the two were attractive, Romul with his sensitive widely-spaced green eyes, Remel with his cheekily expressive golden ones. They were both wearing short trousers, but their chests were bare, tan and glossy and hinting at a future powerful musculature. Remel had a little tuft of hair just below his collar while Romul's chest was completely hairless.

Romul snarled at Remel, who stuck his tongue out at him, and for a moment the two seemed on the point of returning to their fight, even despite her presence.

Levinja raised her voice again. “Stop arguing,” she said. “You should be ashamed of yourselves! Brothers need to look out for each other.”

Romul and Remel both stopped and looked at her.

“I do look out for him,” said Romul, somewhat petulantly.

Remel rolled his eyes. “No more than I do you, brother.”

“So tell me,” said Levinja. “What's this fight all about? Where's the rest of your pack?”

Remel glanced at his brother, and Romul with a sigh, explained. “We always argue like this. And the rest of our pack is...”

“They've started ditching us,” said Remel, frowning and kicking at the grass with a foot. “We're not kids any more, so we have to start looking out for ourselves.”

“I see,” murmured Levinja. It was clear what was happening. Like their animal cousins the wolves, wolfmen ran in packs ruled by a dominant female, the mother. She was the one who had children by the dominant male. The children would remain with the pack until they grew of breeding age, and then slowly but surely they'd be turfed out to look for mates from other packs, to start their own or join another pack as a beta. 

So now they were wandering around on their own. Well, no wonder there was tension. It was a hard job finding a mate.

Levinja took a knee and sighed. “Ah, I see. So you guys are on a girl-hunt, I guess.”

Romul glanced at Remel and blushed, but the younger stripy-locked wolf-boy grinned. “Uh huh. But I've already mated.”

“So have I!” said Romul, not to be outdone.

Levinja smiled. Males! They were all the same, really, monster or human. She remembered the pride she'd taken in her own sons' not meagre exploits.

“So why aren't you with your girlfriends' packs?” she asked.

Remel chuckled. “She wasn't my girlfriend. She was my den-aunt. And Romul mated with his den-sister.”

Den-aunt? Den-sister? Ah, but they must mean the other wolves, not blood related, who had joined their pack for protection.

“But mom found out,” said Romul. “And that's kind of why we got kicked out.”

Remel nodded. “Only dad is allowed to mate.” He snorted. “Gross, huh?”

“Well, I'm sure you'll find fine mates,” said Levinja. She stood up, glanced back at the little hill where she had left her pack and cuirass. She really should be–

But Remel had bound forward and was staring up at her, his tail up. “And why are you here?”

“I'm on a quest,” said Levinja. “Travelling to the Tower of Mahana. And I really should-”

Remel chuckled again. “A quest? You're not on a hunt for a mate yourself?”

Levinja laughed. “A hunt for a mate? Like a boy-hunt?” The memories of the past few days poured in on her. Wasn't she also on a hunt of that sort? Ignoring the thought, she shook her head. “I already have a mate. Well, had one,” she said. “Anyway, I'm too old to be hunting boys.”

Romul frowned. “But you're not much older than our den-aunt and she was always hunting boys.”

Levinja snorted. It was a funny compliment, of sorts, but she didn't take it to heart. 

Remel snuck closer, placed his nose near her and started sniffing.

“Hey!” cried Levinja. “What are you–?”

A few more sniffs and Remel bounded away and sat back on his haunches. His eyes were glittering. “You smell like you're on a boy-hunt.”

“I smell?”

“Your scent,” said Remel. His face had grown serious, although the cheekiness remained. “You're in heat, right?”

Romul came forward then and shyly sniffed Levinja as well. Levinja was so bemused by the situation that she let him, even when he circled round her and smelled her butt.

The older boy went back and joined his brother. “You're right. She smells different since she's a human, but she does smell like she's in heat.”

Levinja gasped. Ah, those thoughts from before? She was still sticky between her legs and no doubt that was what the wolf-boys could smell. 

“Humans don't go 'in heat',” said Levinja quickly. 

“So how do you have puppies, then?” said Romul, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“Humans have children, of course, but we have them all year round. We don't have a breeding season.” Oh, why was she bothering to try and explain this?

Remel glanced at his brother. “All year round?”

Romul flushed red. “So… so you're in heat all the time?”

“No,” said Levinja. “No, not all the… uh...” It sounded like a lie even to her own ears. And all this talk of mating was making her heart race. She felt that familiar ache in the marrow of her bones and her skin began to tingle.

The two boys sat forward. 

“She's excited now!” said Remel eagerly to his brother. 

Romul nodded. 

The two came closer to her and started sniffing her again. Levinja swung around, trying to keep the eager young wolf-boys from sniffing her around her most intimate area. 

“Different from a wolf,” said Romul.

“But she smells good,” said Remel.

She smells good? Oh gods, don't say stuff like that…

Levinja flooded again. 

This was too much for Remel. He plunged his face right between her legs.

Levinja grabbed the boy's tousled head and gently pushed him away. “Hey, hold on there. Have some manners!”

Stupid. They were just acting like wolf-boys. It wasn't their fault. Like human boys, they were horny all the time. And they'd been turfed out of their pack. They'd probably not mated for a long time. 

Their exciting sniffing and wagging tails were far from annoying, in truth. Levinja found herself delighted at being the centre of attention for the two charming little balls of male energy. But she still had to push them back to stop them from knocking her over in their eagerness. This was hard to do, since she was being assaulted on two fronts by sniffing noses and nuzzling faces.

Suddenly Remel stood up and hugged her. Levinja in her surprise could do little more than hug the wolf-boy back – he was heavier than he looked and he threatened to push her over as he pressed himself against her.

With his face close to hers, she saw his big gold eyes grow suddenly glazed and a thin string of drool slip from his mouth. It was then she felt something hard poking into her thigh. The wolf-boy was pressing his erection against her!

It felt pretty substantial for his size and she couldn't help but feel flattered. But when he began to hump against her, she gasped and took his arms from around her and pushed him away.

He fell back on his haunches, a look of disappointment on his face. Romul fell back with him and the two wolf-boys looked at her.

Remel's eyes grew huge and glistening, while Romul tilted his head at her and frowned. 

The sight of their hang-dog expressions melted more than just her heart. Levinja sighed. This was really starting to be a habit!

“Okay,” she said. “We can all play, but you have to promise to be more gentle.”

Romul glanced at Remel, who grinned back and then turned that charming smile toward Levinja. “We'll be gentle, right Romul?”

Romul nodded enthusiastically. 

Levinja stood, considering the two with her hands on her hips. Well, she'd never been faced with a situation like this before. With two eager boys wanting to play, how would she manage this? She'd never lain with two lovers before, but a quick consideration of the mathematics made the problem not an insurmountable one.

“I think the two of you should stand up. It'll make this easier.”

Romul glanced at Remel, and when the younger boy stood up he did too. Levinja came closer, her heart racing with her excitement. The two boys were very good looking, but each in their own unique way. Where Romul was tall and serious, with gentle features and big liquid eyes, Remel was shorter, cheekier in expression and constantly grinning. Even the way they held their tails was different. Romul's wagged slower, as if he was more wary, while Remel's tired the air with its excited waving. 

Like all beast-type monster boys, though, they were well-built, a testament to their active outdoor lives. 

But what about what was under their shorts? She'd only felt Remel's hard member, so she decided to treat Romul first of all. She would teach these two how a human woman played the fun game of mating!

She dropped to her knees in front of Romul and the boy look down at her, wide eyed, as she fumbled at the thongs which tied his shorts. They were already nicely peaked and when she finally got them off and pulled them down, a not unsubstantial penis was released. She took it in her hand straight away and gave it a few experimental strokes.

Romul groaned and shuffled his feet. Remel watched on, a strange look of disappointment and eagerness on his face. 

A few more strokes and the organ attained its full hardness. The pink head was already slick with his excitement and as Levinja drew closer her senses were assaulted with the pungent fragrance of an aroused male. 

She winced as an electric shock sprang through her body. Gods, she was excited, too. Her underwear was already awash and she felt the trickle of overflowing juices on her thighs. 

She couldn't tease herself or the poor trembling boy any longer. She slid her mouth over the head, tasting salt.

Romul groaned and Remel muttered a little “Wow!”

Levinja drew the rest of the wolf-boy's length down her throat, then brought it back up so that she could play with the head with the tip of her tongue. She found the little depression and as she probed it a surge of gooey male flavour spilled out of him, as well as another groan. But this was just a taste of what would come later. 

Levinja slid her hand around Romul's waist, cupped one of his hard buttocks and gave it a squeeze. Oh gods, how did these young men have such wonderful tight backsides? She pulled his shorts down further but they got trapped around his thighs and she abandoned them there so that she could grasp both firm globes in her hands and push his member deeper into her throat.

In her enthusiasm she almost made herself gag, so she drew him out of her throat and instead began to bob on his erection, delighting in how diamond-hard he was. There were few things more exciting for Levinja than to feel male hardness, a hardness she was responsible for, slipping in and out of her mouth.

Tension pooled between her legs and she denied herself the pleasure of her hands, enjoying how the teasing was making every joint in her body ache with need. 

Suddenly she felt a hand on her chest and then another. Remel! He'd got bored of watching. With characteristic impatience, he began squeezing her breasts through the material of her tunic and breast-wrapping. 

His hands were ungentle, but Levinja enjoyed them, especially when he began to rub his palms over her hard nipples. Pleasure surged up from her sex and along her spine.

“G-gentle,” she murmured and Remel, good boy that he was, stopped rubbing quite so hard.

Romul, meanwhile, was in a daze, his legs trembling from the pleasure spilling through him. Ah, so although he had mated before, no doubt it had been a frenzied and furtive business, since it was against pack rules for him to do so. Probably his lover – who had it been, his older den-sister? - had not had the chance or maybe inclination to set his body alight with sweet foreplay. 

Remel, meanwhile, began pushing against her, humping her with the nice erection she'd felt earlier. Levinja took pity on him. Anyway, Romul had had enough of a turn – no doubt he would not mind if she turned her attentions to his brother. 

She let Romul slip from her mouth and the boy gasped in disappointment. But when she placed her hand around his saliva-slick erection, the frown on his face disappeared, replaced again by that adorable dreamy look of ecstatic disbelief.

Remel, meanwhile, had untied his shorts and with a cute wiggle and kick of his legs he slid out of them and left them lying on the grass. Naked now, his erection bobbing straight out from his body, he took it in his hand and started rubbing it against Levinja.

The knight chuckled. “There's no need to do that,” she said. She pulled his hand away and slid her own around his length, pulling him closer with it.

Remel grunted. Levinja, still stroking Romul, turned to examine the new weapon displayed before her. Yes, Remel seemed a bit bigger than his 'big' brother, in thickness rather than size, but there were definite brotherly similarities in the gentle curve upwards of both delightful organs. 

She licked at the little gem of dew on its tip and became aware of another similarity. The two boys' taste! Remel was equally as delicious as his brother, although the fluid flowing from him was maybe thicker in its consistency. 

She drew him inside her mouth and Remel's hands slipped onto her head, grabbing her hair. She murmured in protest around his erection and he straight away lessened his grip. 

“Sorry,” he said. Then he cried out as Levinja drew him deeper into her throat, then out again, the O of her lips caressing his entire length as she did so.

Levinja began stroking Romul's hardness in time to the bobbing of her head on Remel's erection. Ah, so tackling two boys was not so difficult after all! 

But Remel soon grew over-eager and began thrusting into her mouth as though he was penetrating her sex. She breathed through her nose and struggled to keep the excited wolf-boy from choking her, but soon she had to take her mouth from him, gasping. 

“Aw,” murmured Remel.

Levinja wiped the saliva that Remel's plunging had caused to overflow from her lips. “Ah. Perhaps you're ready to mate?”

Remel smiled, a shy smile compared to his usual pixyish grin, and shook his head. “Can I… uh, I want to lick you too.”

Levinja chuckled at the sudden shyness of the usually forward little creature. “I'd like that,” she said. She looked up at Romul as she continued to stroke him. “Would you like me to please you with my mouth again?”

Romul, eyes wide, nodded, but Remel piped up.

“No fair,” he said. “Levinja needs to feel good too.”

“Oh, but that's–” Levinja began, but quickly the thought of being on the receiving end of two agile wolf-tongues made her change her mind.

Romul looked to his brother. “But how will we do this?”

Remel took hold of Levinja around the waist from behind, his hands gentle this time, and lifted her to her feet. Romul's erection slipped free from her hand and the boy stepped back and watched as his younger brother lifted Levinja's tunic, baring her underwear-clad bottom. The wolf-boy, unable to wait, straight away plunged his face into her butt, sniffing deeply, and Levinja staggered forward. Romul was there to meet her, though, and he slipped his hands around her waist and fell to his knees. Soon his face was between her legs too, sniffing just like his brother.

Levinja gasped. Despite the two of them being so eager, their nuzzling and butting cancelled each other out, so that she was able to keep her feet. She took the hem of her tunic from Remel and held it up so that it would not get in the way of the two boys, but she soon found that she needed to place one hand on Romul's head to help keep her balance, and she began stroking the twitching ears of the taller boy as he nuzzled her.

The mixture of ticklishness and the boys' obvious delight in her body made her even stickier. Romul gave a low growl in his throat and then Levinja felt more than just a little wolf-nose pressing against her sex. She felt warmth and wetness. He was licking the crotch of underwear!

Romul murmured in delight and soon Remel was licking her from behind as well, his nose pressing in between her buttocks. 

Levinja could stand the hindrance of her underwear no longer. She slipped her tunic up off her body and tossed it aside, then reached down for the waistband of her underwear and slid them down. The boys stopped their sniffing and licking and sat back on their haunches, tails wagging, and watched her strip eagerly.

Levinja peeled her underwear down and stepped out of them. God, they were heavy, soaked through with her juices! She was about to throw them aside when Remel snatched them from her and pressed them against his nose and mouth, licking and breathing deeply.

His happy murmurs made Levinja laugh, but the laugh was cut short as Romul used his brother's distraction to plunge his face between her legs. Heat and wetness covered her sex and Levinja's knees trembled as an intense wave of pleasure crashed over her. She stumbled forward and had to grab hold of Romul's tussled head to stop from falling. The boy did not seem to mind and kept up his enthusiastic licking. 

“No fair!” cried Remel. Tossing aside Levinja's soaked underwear, he bound up to his kneeling brother and slapped at him with a paw.

“There's no need to fight,” gasped Levinja, struggling to keep her voice from cracking under the intensity of the pleasure she was experiencing. “You boys know how to share, right?”

Remel blinked, and then he shrugged. He came around her and she felt his furry hands on her buttocks. 

“Good boy,” she murmured. 

After a few squeezes – what was with that boy and squeezing? – she felt his tongue across the skin of her butt. But Remel was just teasing her. His long, wet tongue soon dived in between her buttocks, sliding along the crack and dancing over a most intimate spot.

“Oh gods!” she moaned. She bent forward, trusting her weight to Romul, and spread her legs wider so that both boys could reach what they were after. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by this intense new sensation of being licked from both sides at once. She wreathed her fingers in Romul's tousled hair, let her fingertips stroke those adorable tufted ears of his, directed his tongue to just the right spot. He was not shy in licking every part of her and he murmured in delight as his tongue dipped into her. With Remel's tongue probing her from behind and stealing tastes of her sex whenever the older boy's attention was taken with basting her swollen button, she quickly felt herself reaching climax.

As excruciating pleasure welled up through her body, she grew suddenly guilty for so greedily taking from the boys and giving nothing bad. She opened her eyes and gently pushed Romul's face from between her legs. The boy looked up at her, confused, his eyes hooded, his lips and chin glistening with her pleasure. 

“We can… oh! ...we can look after each other at the… ah!.. same time, you know,” she managed between pants. Remel was now free to lap at her juices and the younger boy was hungrily dipping his tongue deep inside her.

She turned Romul around and had him lie down on his back, then got down on all fours and straddled his face, pulling Remel with her – the younger wolf-boy would not let go of her and kept his face smothered in her butt as she got herself in position. 

Romul was standing tall and proud right in front of her face – the boy had been stroking himself as he had pleasured her and his length was slick with the overflowing of his excitement. With long strokes of her tongue she replaced the glistening juices with her saliva, delighting in the salty flavour. Then she slipped his member into her mouth and began to bob her head. 

If Romul had been confused with her plans before, he knew what to do now. She felt his tongue slide back between her legs and for a sweet moment both boys' tongues tangled over her.

The heat and wetness and tender stroking of those long tongues in unison and the hard length filling her mouth and throat made her flood. There would be enough of her for the boys to share now, perhaps!

But as Romul had the better position, Remel soon fell back, panting, and allowed his brother to part Levinja's sex with his fingers and slip his tongue right up inside her. Ah, so the boys had come to an agreement, then! They would be able to swap soon and then she could reward Remel for his patience. 

But then she felt his hands curl around her waist and she thought she'd soon experience his tongue sliding between her buttocks again. Instead, she sensed his weight as he covered her and felt something hard butting at the gates of her sex. Oh, surely he wasn't…!

With a grunt the young wolf-boy slid into her and Levinja cried out, his elder brother's penis popping from her mouth. Remel drew himself out then straight away plunged back into her up to the hilt. He soon reminded her of his lack of patience as he quickly began humping her but Levinja was in no state to protest. 

Romul, meanwhile, had stopped licking her and had slid himself out from underneath her. He scrambled up onto his knees, a mixture of frustration and anger on his face. He began to growl at his brother but Levinja took hold of his tail and stopped him. His growl dropped away as his eyes fell on her. 

Levinja knew how to defuse the situation. She grabbed his hips and swung him around, slipping her mouth onto the head of his penis as soon as it was in range, then drew him forward so that the whole of his length slid down her throat.

This way both boys could take their pleasure from her without fighting! 

Romul's expression soon shifted to that delightful distracted concentration that males have during sex as he took Levinja's head in his hands and held her still as he began to hump her face. Levinja did not mind. The boy's hands were gentle and he was careful to give her time to breathe.

Remel, on the other hand, had not ceased from his single-minded penetration of her and he quickly had her gasping out around his older brother's length. He really was an energetic little male! 

But soon his thrusts became even faster and Levinja knew he was nearing the limit of his self-control. He pressed her down, his smooth chest flat against her back, drool dripping from his mouth onto her neck as he shuffled forward to shift the angle of his rutting.

As his hardness speared into her deeper now, Levinja couldn't stop from crying out, but with Romul's erection in her mouth the sound came out as a strange gurgle.

Romul gave a deep moan and she felt him jerk in her mouth. He was coming! She pulled away so that the head of his penis was positioned over the cupping of her tongue as the first blast of his boiling semen spurted out. 

Her sinuses and mouth were quickly filled to overflowing by the incredible volume of fluid spilling from him and she swallowed desperately to keep from choking. Romul shook his mop of hair and moaned as he kept thrusting into her mouth. 

Then she heard Remel cry out with a girlish moan as he reached climax as well, his liquid heat flooding her. The wolf-boy's rapid humping shifted to hard, deeper thrusts as he sought to push his spurting member as deep inside her as he could. Then, with his hands squeezing her hard around the waist and his testicles slapping up against her button, Levinja reached the summit of her own pleasure. 

Ecstasy tore through her from every direction at once, and she felt as though she was drowning in hot liquid. Her mouth and throat were still thick with Romul's pungent semen, the overflow dripping down her chin despite her attempts to swallow every drop, and at the same time Remel's seed spilled down her thighs, squeezed out of her as the boy showed no sign of letting up on his eager humping. 

Levinja shuddered, her vision turning white, her every sense overwhelmed by a singular explosion of pleasure that pushed all thought from her mind and left her drooling and muttering half-human noises.

Romul was the first to pull away. His softening member, sticky with saliva and semen, slipped from her lips and hung before her still gasping mouth as he kept hold of her head and slumped forward, panting in happy exhaustion.

Remel, meanwhile, had collapsed on top of her, his hips still weakly thrusting despite his exhaustion. But then he grew soft too and slid out of her and with him came a flood of their mixed juices. 

Remel fell back on his haunches, and Levinja collapsed onto her stomach, fluid drooling from both ends. She lay there, shivering, pleasure refusing to leave her, and the two boys did not move either, echoing her pleasure-soaked panting with their own. 

Levinja, swallowed up by the intensity of her climax, lay flush with the grass, praying that the delightful sensations still ebbing through her body would never stop.

She must have fallen asleep for a moment, for she was roused by frenzied whispering.

“We… we haven't hurt her, have we?”

Levinja rolled onto her side and opened her eyes. Remel was crouched next to Romul, the two staring down at her, their boyish faces scoured with concern.

“You sweet boys,” she murmured. “Don't worry. You haven't hurt me.”

Levinja realised then she was still wearing her breast-strapping. It had started to feel constricting and she sat up and quickly unwrapped it. The boys watched her, entranced, as her sizeable boobs popped free.

“Well,” said Levinja, rubbing the red marks from her breasts, amused and flattered by their wide-eyed attention, “It seems a bit unfair for both of you to be totally naked and for me to still be wearing this.”

She lay back down and spread her arms, beckoning to the two boys. 

They glanced at each other, unsure.

“Oh come here,” murmured Levinja. “It's cold and I don't have your lovely fur.”

The two boys lay down naked beside her, Romul on her left and Remel on her right. Remel straight away slipped a hand onto a breast and squeezed it.

“Oh!” cried Levinja. Despite their claws, the boys' paws were soft and agile, even if Remel was a bit over-eager. “Maybe a little gentler.”

Remel nodded, then glanced across at Romul. “She has big boobs, doesn't she? Even bigger than mom's.”

Romul frowned. “They're about the same size.” He brought his hand closer and looked to Levinja, unsure. 

Levinja smiled sweetly at him. He really was different from his brother! “You can try, too. There's one for each of you.”

Romul's hand curved over her breast and she gasped. Oh, the boy was gentler than his brother, but there was still heat and eagerness in his touch. His fingers danced over her nipple and it began to harden.

“Wow,” murmured Romul.

“You can do It this way too,” said Remel. He dipped his head and Levinja cried out as his long tongue slid over her nipple. It quickly hardened and the boy slipped his mouth over it, drawing it between his lips.

Romul, following his brother's lead, began to suck on her other breast and soon the two boys were nursing on her.

Levinja drew the two closer, tangling her fingers in both heads of tousled hair and stroking them. 

“You're such good boys,” she murmured. She bit her lip. It had been a long time since she had experienced the feeling of both breasts being sucked at once!

Her heart began to race. Oh, but she was getting excited again! She glanced down at the boys' nakedness. Remel was wiggling his bare butt happily, and both his and Romul's tails were wagging as they suckled her. 

Romul grew hard first. Well, it was only fair since his brother had jumped in ahead of him before. His hardness pushed against her thighs and Levinja brought her hand down to catch it. Romul's gasped around her breast as she began to stroke him.

But Remel was not far behind him. His eyes were closed and he seemed to take a particular delight in nursing her. His mouth was hot, slick and hungry and Levinja regretted the fact that she couldn't produce the milk he would no doubt had eagerly drunk down had he had the opportunity. His soft little member began to grow and soon the knight was happily sandwiched between too increasingly horny wolf-boys. 

When the two pulled away panting from her breasts, leaving her nipples red and swollen, slick with their saliva, Levinja sat up. She rolled the dazed Romul onto his back and threw a leg over him. She guided his newly awoken erection to the entrance of her sex and rolled her hips forward. The boy cried out as he slid right into her.

“This is how humans make love,” said Levinja, leaning down to lap at the boy's own rapidly hardening nipples.

Remel, meanwhile, had fallen back on his haunches. He slipped a hand between his thighs and began to stroke his length back to hardness as he watched, wide-eyed.

Levinja had planned to take this slow, to show this shy wolf-boy how a human woman could give pleasure, but his open mouth, the hot, wet tongue flicking from it, the grimaces of pleasure flashing across his disbelieving face slew her. She could not hold back. She would rut this boy to climax, bring that gorgeous hardness of his to completion as quickly as she could!

She cupped his chin in her hands and kissed at that wet panting mouth as she bounced herself up and down on him. The boys had been the ones who had started this, but now it was her turn to dominate! Her pride as a knight and a woman would not allow any less.

Remel, meanwhile, had returned to his earlier hardness and with an adorable, awkward stumble he shuffled over to them and holding his erection in his hand, he presented it to Levinja.

Levinja, still rutting the moaning and squirming Romul, broke her kiss and sat up so that she was at the right level to draw that delightful organ being pushed at her face into her mouth. 

That boy Remel! He really was over-eager. But she was too filled with pleasure to be annoyed. Romul's erection was harder than before, quite a feat even from a young male, and it was spearing up to her to the hilt, hitting her cervix and sending surges of pleasure exploding up the length of her body to the top of her head. 

She opened her mouth and let Remel guide himself in. The head was salty and hard and Levinja only let that enter at first, licking his previous exertions clean with her eager tongue. But Remel was not satisfied and he pushed his hips forward, trying to force it inside her mouth. 

Levinja sighed through her nose and opened her lips wider, letting him. Soon the boy was humping her as though he was between her thighs. She slipped a hand onto his waist to keep him from choking her with his enthusiasm, and felt the soft batting of his happy tail's wagging. 

Even with this hard member assaulting her mouth, she did not become distracted from her rutting of Romul. She let him slide right up to the hilt and then left him there as she rolled her hips forward, pressing her swollen and angry button against his little tuft of pubic hair. Gods, this truly was bliss, being mated from two directions at once!

Romul could not stand her assault for long. When she raised her hips high and then slid back down onto him the whole way, her juices flooding from her and staining his abdomen, he gave a short, agonised yelp and came.

Somehow there was even more this time. She felt the blast of his boiling semen force its way up into her and did not let up from her frenzied humping. But with gravity against them, their shared fluid poured out of her all at once and soon their abdomens were awash, sticking as they came together. 

When her bouncing began to slow, Romul's hands slid around her waist and kept her moving. Oh god, she was close now! Even having come as hard as she had before, these two boys….!

Being rammed with Romul's still hard and spurting member brought her to the edge, but it was when Remel gave a low grunt and started to fill her mouth with his thick semen that she came as well.

The wolf-boy, panting, his face agonised, kept up his humping of her face as he came. There seemed no end to the fluid pouring out of him! Even with her climax echoing through her, setting her whole body shivering and white fire dancing through her senses, Levinja was able to swallow most of it. But when Remel pulled back one final time, desiring to penetrate his entire length through her bruised lips, he moved back to far and his still-spurting member popped free of her mouth, splattering her lips and chin and nose with thick goo.

Remel, panting with pleasure, stumbled back onto his haunches, his penis still spurting. Romul, meanwhile, was staring blindly up at the sky, licking his lips, gasping deep lungfuls of air. His hands slipped from her waist and Levinja, shivering from the aftershocks of her climax, slumped over to one side. He popped free and she was amazed to see white fluid still dribbling from him. But soon he began to grow soft. 

Levinja closed her eyes, let the final dregs of her pleasure dominate her senses. She threw an arm over Romul's chest and the boy's hand found hers and held it. 

Remel, meanwhile, joined her from behind, his lips dancing across the back of her neck as he licked at the sweat there.

Blissfully filled to overflowing and sticky with their juices, this time Levinja could not stop sleep from stealing over her.

\-----------------------------

Levinja cut through the water with great sweeps of her arms. The river was delicious and cool. She reached the little rocky outcropping and lay back on the dry, sun-hot stone to watch the two boys as they played in the water, splashing and shouting and wrestling.

Levinja's heart surged with affection for the two. They were at that wonderful age when their body had become an adult's, but their minds were still preoccupied with the concerns of a boy and they could delight in play.

Seeing them play in the water, catching flashes of their nakedness, enjoying the glistening of their smooth, tanned skin soon woke desire in Levinja. Even after drinking water she could still taste them in her mouth. 

Gods, maybe they were right. Maybe she was in heat! But this time she let herself boil with desire there in the sun. Surely being so greedy was a sin, especially after she had enjoyed the two boys at the same time not just once but twice! Her sex still ached from being so vigorously mated, lying puffy and swollen between her thighs, and when she tested the lips of her mouth with a tongue she found they were bruised by the wolf-boy's vigorous humping. 

Ah! She needed to stop think about such things! She squirmed, felt a rush of liquid between her legs, and mortified she let herself slide down off the rock back into the water with a great splash.

The splash distracted the boys from their play and they stopped and looked at her. Romul leaned down into the water and swam to her and Remel was not far behind. 

“Are you okay mother?” the older boy asked as he came to a stop, floating, before her. 

Levinja blinked. 'Mother?” 

Romul nodded. “We call older female wolves 'mother'.”

“Oh,” she said. Then she blushed. “But I'm not a wolf.”

Remel glided up beside Romul. “You're an honorary wolf, now,” he said. He grinned. “Are all humans as good as you at mating, mother?”

Her face grew even hotter, and if she had not been submerged in the cool water her body would have echoed this heat. “I'm just the same as any other human woman,” she said.

Remel glanced at Romul. “Maybe we should forget about finding wolf-girls and find humans to mate with.”

Romul nodded. 

Oh, what sweet boys they were! She reached forward and tussled their hair. The two nuzzled into her stroking, their ears twitching with delight.

Remel came closer and pressed himself against her. “Hey, hey,” he muttered. “I wanna mate again.”

Romul looked across at her with large, liquid eyes and he nodded. “Me too.”

Levinja laughed. “My, my! So full of energy. I'm sorry, but I'm a bit sore.” But when she saw the disappointment on the boys' face, her heart broke. “Oh, maybe I can think of something.”

She waded aside and had the two boys lay, stomach down, on the rock beside each other. The water sluiced off their naked bodies, leaving them glistening – a pair of wide shoulders, long sleek backs and two sets of delightfully rounded buttocks. Romul and Remel looked back at her.

“Like this?” asked Remel. 

Levinja nodded.

“Now what are we supposed to do?” asked Romul.

“Just lie there,” said Levinja. “I'll do the rest.”

She waded forward and placed a trembling hand on Romul's buttocks. The boy gasped and his tail stuck straight up in the air. Remel turned his head to watch as Levinja drew the two beautiful smooth globes apart and then leaned forward, bringing her hungry tongue against the boy's adorable pucker. 

Romul gave a little yelp and tried to look back at what was happening, but Levinja patted one cheek.

“Just relax,” she said. 

Soon Romul was pushing his butt in her face, eager to receive more licking. With his hips off the rock she could reach around and soon found his member, already hard and ready, and she stroked it as she licked and teased his anus.

Remel meanwhile looked as though he was missing out, so keeping up her one-handed stroking of Romul she leaned over and licked the skin of one of the younger boy's buttocks.

Remel was a quick learner. He pushed his butt at her, reaching back with a hand to help her part his cheeks. Soon she was smothering her face in his butt as well and basting his crinkled little opening.

She went from one to the other until she had had her fill, even licking at their dangling testicles from behind, something that Romul especially enjoyed. Funny that some males did not like it!

But the boys quickly desired more and rolled over onto their backs. Levinja licked her lips. They were sporting huge erections now and even despite her earlier complaints of feeling sore, there was no way she was going to let them go to waste. She made the boys lie closer together, their sides flush, so that she could hold both delicious erections in her hands and dart her tongue from one to the other with just the slight turn of her head. 

As she slid her tongue over their red and angry tips, semen began to bubble out of both. Her tongue dipped into the clear fluid and she murmured with delight. She placed her mouth around one head and then another, tickling the underneath with her tongue, wanting more of their delicious fluids.

Soon she was bobbing her head on one erection, and then the other, not wanting either boy to miss out. 

Even despite their earlier exertions, it was not long until both boys were moaning and squirming. They were both close! Now if she was only careful, maybe she could manage to have them both climax at the same time.

The thought sent a bolt of pleasure springing up through her. They were such good boys! They deserved another treat.

She took the penis currently in her mouth out – it was Remel's – and brought the heads of both organs together. They boys did not seem to mind the touching, especially when it allowed her to lick them at the same time.

Soon Romul uttered a deep groan and his younger brother echoed it. A dollop of semen from Romul splashed onto her tongue and she drew back. Despite how delicious it tasted, she resisted the urge to slide her mouth over the drooling organ. No, she was going to give them a little show. 

She stroked the two erections rapidly now, and they moved slick with her saliva and their juices, keeping them pointed at her face. 

Remel came first. A great rope of semen jetted from him, splattering across her face, reaching even up into the fringe of her wet hair. Levinja gasped with delight. And then Romul was coming. An equally thick jet squirted across her cheek and onto one eye and she closed it just in time, her lash plastered down with the sticky goo. 

Romul and Remel were both watching her, wide-eyed, as they ejaculated on her face. Levinja, one-eyed, grinned up at them as wave after wave of sticky fluid splashed against her skin. She knew what males liked and the ecstatic disbelief on their faces was beyond adorable. 

Their spurting slowed and only then did she allow herself to open her mouth and receive the last splashes of the wolf-boys' semen on her tongue. She fell back into the water, gasping, her slick hands slipping off them, leaving the boys lying there, moaning softly, their beautiful chests heaving, their faces grimacing with the final throes of their climaxes.

She felt herself shudder. Oh gods, was she coming too? And she hadn't even touched herself! But it was true. She pushed her thighs together and the pleasure hiding in her surged up through her, making her cry out.

She must have blacked out for the next thing she knew the two boys were helping her out of the water.

“Are you okay?” asked Romul.

Levinja nodded. “I- I just went blank for a moment.”

“Wow,” said Remel. “That was intense.”

They reached the shallower water and Levinja, suddenly reminded of the drying semen plastering her face. She ducked her head under the water and scrubbed her face, but even so the thick, sexy scent of the two boys lingered everywhere on her. They'd truly marked her as their territory and she felt a surge of delight as the two naked boys helped her out of the water.

This time, after they dried themselves and lay naked on the soft grass, the three finally let the languid fingers of sleep steal over them.

\---------------

Levinja did not ask the boys whether they wished to travel with her, they merely came along as though it was the most natural thing in the world. They would run off into the forest with that endless energy of young boys and bring back rabbits and other small game which Levinja would cook for the three of them. They would scout ahead, checking for threats with sniffs of their cute twitching noses; they would bound around her, grabbing at her playfully, until laughing she tumbled over accidentally-intentionally and the boys would strip her and then take turns rutting her eager body until they filled her to overflowing. And when she made camp they would desire to mate with her again until the three collapsed in a big, exhausted pile, Levinja blissful with one boy in her arms, the other draped over her, snoring and twitching his ears and tail as he dreamed.

It was on the third day after they had met that they reached a little flowering meadow at the edge of a brushy forest and Remel bounded ahead to sniff one of the low bushes. He sniffed it for a long time, and Romul, with a glance at Levinja for permission, joined him.

The two boys spoke together and then they returned to her.

“Wolves,” said Remel.

“Friendly?” asked Levinja.

Romul shook his head. “I don't know. I don't recognise the scent.” He glanced back at the forest. “We should go another way, just in case.”

Remel was about to say something, but then he nodded. 

“Some wolves don't like humans,” he said. “And we don't want mother to get into trouble.”

They skirted the forest. They were an hour into their journey when Romul stopped dead, his ears twitching. Remel joined him at his side. The older boy tilted his head at the forest.

“What's the matter?” whispered Levinja.

“We're being followed,” said Romul.

“They're in the forest,” said Remel.

Levinja's hand dropped to her weapon. Remel and Romul fell beside her.

“We'll fight for you, mother,” said Remel, his face adorably determined.

The darling boys! They were ready to defend her, even from their own kind?

She tousled first Remel's hair and then Romul's. “Your mother can look after herself,” she said.

She was interrupted by an ear-splitting howl from somewhere in the forest. She took a step back and Romul and Remel fell onto their haunches, ears and tails stiff.

Romul began to growl.

The howl cam again, closer this time. Romul's snarling dropped away and he glanced at Remel.

Remel lifted his face and howled, and soon Romul joined him.

Another howl, of a different tone, also from the forest, but closer. The two boys howled back.

There was movement at the edge of the forest. A furry body came bounding out of the undergrowth. It was clad in clothes just like the two wolf-boys wore, except for the furry binding around its chest. It turned to them, its long ears pricking up, and Levinja realised it was a she-wolf. Her hair was long and rough, tangled with twigs and dirty, but her big gold eyes and her delicate nose and lips hinted at beauty beneath the dirt.

Romul looked back at Levinja, but Remel was already bounding up to meet her. She fell back on her haunches, watching him, her tail erect. Remel stopped just before her and sat back too. The two examined each other from a distance. At last Remel's tail began to wag, and then the girl's joined it. Remel beckoned to Romul and Levinja, grinning.

“They're friendly!” said Romul, relieved. 

Remel and the she-wolf, meanwhile, were sniffing each other, tails wagging. Romul was halfway to joining them when another wolf came out of the forest, shier than the first. She too was a she-wolf, younger, slenderer, with short hair. She saw Romul approaching and fell back, snarling. Romul came to a stop near her and slowly approached, tail wagging. 

The new girl glanced at Remel and her companion and then back at Romul, and then too, her tail began to wag.

“It's okay, mother,” said Romul with a grin, turning around. “They're exiles, just like–” 

But the meadow was empty. Levinja was gone.

\-----------------

Tears blinded her, but she ran anyway. She had sprinted into the forest and had not looked back. It would not have been fair, to the boys or to her own heart, to have stayed any longer. How would they explain an older human woman to their new friends? 

No, Levinja had dallied long enough. The days and nights had been blissful, but what future did she offer these two young boys? She was too old to bear them puppies and besides, there home was here, in the wilderness with their own kind. They would be happy here.

And yet for a long time she heard something pursuing her through the forest – the snap of branches, the shivering of foliage thrust aside. And yet her desperation forced her forward, running until her chest hurt.

She came upon a river, followed its bank until she found a narrow ford and plunged across the surging water. She knew that they would not be able to pursue her after this, that the water would break the trail of her scent. There was a tree-covered ridge on the other side and she began to climb it, finding purchase in the scattered rocks and boulders between the roots of the great trees clinging to its side.

She was halfway up when she steeled herself to look down. There, far below in the little valley cut by that stream, she saw two tiny figures. One sat on its haunches as the other ran back and forth along the bank. Which one was Remel and which one Romul? She could not tell, so far away. But soon they were joined by two others. The boys greeted the newcomers, and then the four fell to sniffing around. Levinja remained still. Wolves' eyesight was almost as good as their sense of smell. 

At last, the four sat back down and then slowly they moved back towards the forest, but not without many glances behind them from the boys.

They would forgive her in time, would forget her. Levinja tore at the tears with her hands. Stupid! Stupid to have let her guard down, to let them have her heart. 

And yet… and yet she felt warmth suffusing her. Memories, memories of their time together – not just the lewd abandon of their sex-games, but also the moments of gentle peacefulness and fun they had enjoyed. How could she regret any of that? 

And now they had new friends, and no doubt mates. The boys were so beautiful there was no way the newcomers could resist their inevitable advances. Soon they would be carrying the boys' puppies.

Levinja let a hand fall on her abdomen. She remembered still that feeling, that feeling of being heavy with child, remembered her two boys, living back in human civilisation far from here.

She sniffed, let a final tear fall. She would allow no more. She had a quest to fulfil. 

The wolves had disappeared back into the forest. She turned and continued her climb.

To be continued in _The Devil's Playground_.


	4. The Devil's Playground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questing knight Levinja Verana finds herself the captive of a young imp but soon turns the tables on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've finished writing the series and will be adding the last few chapters over the next month. Apologies to everyone who thought I'd stopped writing or dropped dead. You can expect a slew of new stories soon!
> 
> taiyakisoba

The maze of defiles and ravines seemed to have no end. Levinja slumped back against the side of the rocky wall and stayed there, unmoving, for a long time.

She tried to convince herself that she was merely tired, that she was taking a rest – but she recognised all too well that dark coldness spreading throughout her chest. Despair. It had haunted her for so long, haunted her even when she had fled into the arms of the Church. But she had tasted little of it since she had started this quest. The everyday exertions of her body, the combat she had undergone had renewed her, reminded her of who she was.

She smiled without humour. Combat? Truly? Well, yes, there had been combat – the wilderness was no safe place. But more than the combat, her wrestlings with the beautiful monster boys she had encountered were truly what had purged her of her despair. And now that despair had returned. This maze of tunnels had little to do with it.

The werewolf boys. Rom and Rem. Her thoughts often went to them, no matter how hard she tried to forget them. She knew she had done the right thing, leaving them behind. They had found mates and would be happy. She knew the happiness of having a partner, of sharing children with one you loved.

Yes, she had done the right thing – but the pain remained with her. Lonely days in the wilderness, and worse – the lonely nights, sleeping alone, where once she had had smooth, slender boyish bodies pressed against her on both sides. 

Her body tingled. Gods, even now she could not free herself of this lust! This lust which controlled her, had led her heart to be broken again.

No, she must go on. Levinja Verana would not give up. She could not give up. The Tower of Maona was not so very far away now. 

She pushed her back against the rock and set herself back on her feet. Yes. Keep going. It was only when she stopped moving that the despair caught up with her. 

She broke into a jog. Yes. Good, her body responded by translating her lewd energy into movement. She felt joy in the gentle burn of her muscles, the filling and emptying of her lungs as she regulated her breathing. That dark emotion ebbed away.

Levinja raised her eyes to the sky. Dark, filled with smoke, and yet it was beautiful, tinted pink by the fiery summit of the volcano which had been her constant companion for the last week, a great black pyramid on the horizon, appearing and disappearing behind the canopy of the woods where she had abandoned the twin wolf-boys. The woods had thinned, replaced by badlands, and now she was skirting the foothills of the volcano itself, the summit hidden by the steep defiles and walls of pitted volcanic rock which she had to traverse. The going was difficult, even here where the path was sure, but the challenge was welcome. Yes, this place was stark and beautiful, yet she could have done without the ever-present spoiled-egg smell of brimstone.

She came to an arch which passed over a deep cut in the rock. The acrid smell was replaced suddenly by a deep earthiness wafting up from below on the hot air. Levinja glanced down. Ah. A sluggish grey river wallowed there, bubbling. Clay, boiling hot. She glanced at the arch. A happy coincidence? Of course not. It was artificial, carved from the rock. She had noticed many signs of habitation in this place. Imps, no doubt. Her mind flashed back to the map the Reverend Mother had shown her. Yes, imps – those heat-loving demihumans who made their homes wherever the earth's fiery heart broke close to the surface. They were dangerous, known for their sadistic tendencies. It was one of the reasons they were so often confused with demons in the minds of the ignorant. But whereas demons where true supernatural beings of darkness, imps were as much flesh-and-blood as humans. They feared the cold and stayed close to the heat and could see in the dark and favoured stone to earth. 

She crossed the arch and was straight away faced with the dark mouth of a cavern. Yes, most definitely the entrance to tunnels used by imps as a lair.

Levinja's fingers teased the hilt of her sword. Her heart sang with the promise of combat, but she felt the tingle of fear as well. Imps were no problem alone, but in groups they were dangerous. And their tunnels were filled with traps. She would have to be careful.

She strode into the cavern. Immediately the small stone around her neck flickered forth its magic. Yes, a present from the Reverend Mother – a stone containing distilled starlight, harvested over many years. She knew it would make her visible to the imps, but she could not see in the dark, and the glittering blue light that spilled forth cheered her heart. 

Levinja had traversed such underground complexes before, and she knew the ways of monsters. She avoided any tunnel which gave a sense of having been travelled extensively or recently and she kept to the outer ones, skirting those which most likely led to the lairs of imps. 

The tunnels burrowed deep into the earth. Darkness and stone filled the hours of her journey. Occasionally she thought she heard the clicking sound of hooves on stone, but far away, and sometimes the half-imagined sibilant whisper of voices. But not often.

Levinja knew she must have passed the greater part of the imp's lair by now – it had been a long time since she had encountered their hoof-prints in the dust, the absent-minded scratching of talons on the walls. 

The atmosphere lightened as the tunnel led upwards. Yes, she was approaching the surface! Levinja's heart lifted at the promise of daylight again and she hurried onward. 

Suddenly, her left foot was yanked from under her and she fell forward, just barely bringing up her hands in time to stop from planting her face onto the dusty floor of the tunnel. She gasped and pushed herself up, her heart racing. Stupid! She'd tripped on something – some tree-root, she guessed, by the smooth living surface she still felt curled around her heel.

She turned her ankle, seeking to free herself of the unseen root – but as she tried to slip her foot from under it, the root shifted to prevent her. 

Levinja bit back a cry of panic as she felt the smooth bark slip around her ankle and up her calf like a snake. She rolled, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword – but it never reached it. Another tentacle surged out of the dark and wrapped around her wrist. Lifted up bodily into the air, she kicked savagely with her free foot until it too was snared. She tore at the wooden tentacle within reach of her left hand and ripped a strip of bark free. But further tentacles whipped out from the wall and clasped her hand, wrapping it tightly.

She couldn't move now, beyond twisting her torso or bucking her hips. But even this became impossible when the tentacles straightened and lifted her higher still. She turned her head about and saw that the tentacles were indeed tree roots, but ones which twisted and curled in the air by their own volition – enchanted plants, and clearly a trap left by imps for the unwary.

More roots came out and deftly relieved her of her sword, cuirass and pack, their tapered ends cutting dexterously through the leather thongs. The cuirass fell with a clang to the floor of the tunnel and was quickly joined by her greaves. The tips of the roots toyed for several moments with the sleeves of her jerkin and the hem of her tunic, but then fell away. So it seemed they were to render their captive harmless rather than totally naked. 

Levinja swung her head around and bit the length of root wrapped around the wrist of her right hand and ground it with her teeth. She tasted the bitterness of sap as she tore the bark free. Then another tentacle, with something like exasperation, slid around her neck and squeezed.

Ah. A warning not to fight back. Well, she had done all that she could. She would have to wait for the imps to come. No doubt if they had designed this trap to kill intruders, it would already have done so. It was intended to capture enemies alive, then. The imps would come to have their fun, and Levinja would use the chance to escape – or at least, to fall fighting.

Her eyes scanned the half-light, her ears straining to hear the soft tap of cloven hooves. But for a long while she heard nothing, hanging there, alone in the dark, with only the occasional squeak of a root tensing or relaxing. Time began to lose meaning to her. 

The imp was already right in front of her when she noticed him. Exhaustion must have dulled her senses, or else she had fallen asleep for a brief moment. He stepped out into the corridor from some side passage she had not noticed. He turned his head towards her and stopped dead. Shock registered in his amber eyes, growing even larger than they already were, and Levinja knew he had not come here to find her but had merely stumbled upon her. Perhaps this was an old trap, one which was seldom triggered, since she was so far away from the well-travelled tunnels of the imp lair. 

The imp stared at her and made no move to approach. He was not tall – few imps were, and he was a full head beneath Levinja's height, even with the two horns curling back from his forehead. They were small and velvety and along with the wide-eyed and innocent look of his oval face, Levinja knew he could not be old – not a child, but just barely an adult. The wings, unfurled in his surprise, certainly seemed small and undeveloped, too. 

His glossy dark-blue skin was mostly bare, except for a loin-cloth of scarlet material, and at his side hung a short curved blade, alive with glowing sigils. All imps carried such blades, even the very young, as this one was. 

Levinja's mind, suddenly alight after an age of hanging there in the twilight alone, flashed in every direction at once. He was alone and she would easily be able to best him in combat, if only she were free. She had a chance. He must not be allowed to call any other imps and she must somehow convince him to come closer. The blade at his side... 

She did not let her eyes linger on it but instead met his gaze. The imp-boy started, his pointed tail stiffening in surprise and Levinja couldn't help but smile. Good. There was no need, then, to fake a smile to ingratiate herself and lull him into a sense of security.

“Hello,” she said. A stupid thing to say, perhaps, but better than this silly silence between them.

The imp closed his lips, his mouth straightening into what he no doubt thought was a stern expression, but one which was undermined by the slight trembling of his hand as it fell on the hilt of his blade. “Stop there!” he cried. His voice was high, the nervous contralto of a youth. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” said Levinja with a low chuckle. “I'm pretty much stuck.”

The imp blinked, startled again by her laughter. But this time he took a step forward. 

“Who are you?”

“My name is Levinja Verana,” said Levinja. “I am a traveller, searching for the Tower of Maona.”

The boy frowned. “The Tower? It is far from here.”

“Well,” said Levinja. “As you can see I've got myself into a bit of trouble.” She pulled at a root with her right arm, making it squeak in protest. 

“You are an intruder,” said the imp. “The servitor was placed here to catch intruders.”

“I did not intend to intrude,” said Levinja. “'I'm afraid I wandered into your tunnels by mistake. If you could just tell these roots to let me go–”

The imp's face registered shock at such a thought and he shook his head. “No. I am – it is forbidden to release captives without the permission of a matriarch.” His words triggered some other thought and he glanced past Levinja, down the corridor that led deeper into the earth.

Levinja smiled to herself. Ah. Of course, imps were a matriarchal species, like many subterranean monsters. As a young male he was no doubt far down the social order, which explained his nervousness around her. Even though she was a human, she was not so terribly different from those tall and authoritative females who bossed him around. 

“Oh,” said Levinja. “But surely you're a guard, aren't you? Protecting your lair from intruders.” She let her eyes fall over his body and she smiled again. He was well-built, but not particularly muscular, his form nicely toned although his hairless chest and hips gave hints of the left-over puppy-fat of childhood. “There's no need to rush off right away to get permission. I'm no threat to you.”

The imp blinked and furrowed his brow, mulling over her words. Yes, that was right. She did not look like a threat, did she? Especially stripped of her armour and weapon.

The imp's eyes followed hers to the floor, where her sword lay. He frowned and with a flickering of a long-nailed finger through the air, a root unravelled itself from the wall and slid around her sword and drew it away. 

Ah, so he could command the roots with his magic! Perhaps there was another way she could free herself.

She turned her eyes on him. “Please,” she said. “All I want is to be on my way. I promise you that I did not come here to cause you or your people any harm.”

“Your sword,” he said. “And your armour. You are a warrior.”

“Yes,” said Levinja. “I am a Knight of the Order of the Evening Star. But as I said, I only came here under duress – there is no other way through these mountains. The wilderness is dangerous, as you well know.”

The boy nodded. “Yes. Very dangerous.”

“But I am not dangerous,” said Levinja, and she turned her most brilliant smile on him and batted – yes, actually batted! – her eyelashes.

The boy's mouth fell open and a blush flashed on his dark cheeks. 

Ah! So she had not been wrong. He was a virgin, no doubt. One of his age and standing among his people would have little chance to have been chosen as a mate. Levinja pursed her lips. Those foolish matriarchs! But then, they were not alone among females who had yet to learn of the delights that untouched and innocent males could give a hot-blooded woman. 

He shook his head and said nothing. 

“But you're very wise not to trust me right away,” said Levinja. “I can see they were not wrong to give you the task of guarding this part of the tunnels.” 

The boy's mouth opened slightly and Levinja knew her guess was correct. This part of the tunnel system, so far away from the home lairs of the imps, was the perfect place to train a young one such as this. An actual encounter with an intruder would be unlikely here, but the skills he learned would be useful. 

“But I am telling the truth that I am no threat to you,” she continued. “Please. You can search me. I have no other weapon but that sword to defend myself with.”

The boy blinked at her and frowned again. His frown, Levinja decided, was pretty – it made his otherwise naïve face more mature for a moment, creating a delicious counterpoint with his boyish body.

“Yes,” said the imp. “Yes, I must search you.”

His eyes had fallen on Levinja's chest. Boys! They were all obsessed with breasts. Well, it was no shame to them. Nature had made them so, the same nature which set Levinja's heart racing with heat when she dwelt on the well-defined chest and stomach of the imp-boy before her – his nipples, even darker against his dark skin, and the well-rounded sensuality of his hips and his thighs.

He came forward, hesitant at first, and Levinja watched him. She was careful not to betray any eagerness in her eyes. She knew of imps, of their tendency to sadism, their delight in bullying the weak. No, a strong woman would scare this imp-boy away and then she would be truly in a bind. And so she widened her eyes and parted her lips in a mime of nervousness, using her growing excitement to give it further authenticity. 

The boy's gorgeous eyes flickered and the tiny curl of a lip told her that her gambit was a true one. Yes, he was inexperienced and still fearful of her, but his imp-heart took delight in another's fear. 

He was beside her now and raised his hands to her chest. 

Levinja looked up at him, her eyes glistening with an excitement she knew he would take for fear.

“Please,” said Levinja. “Be gentle with me.”

His hands slipped onto her breasts. Hanging free, he felt their weight in his hands through the material of her tunic. He swallowed, his face intent in how they felt. No doubt these were the first he had touched since he had nuzzled at his mother's breast as a babe.

Levinja gasped. His hands, despite the tiny cruel talons, were gentle, disarmingly so. 

“I... I must search the inside of your clothes,” he muttered, almost apologetic. 

“I am hiding nothing,” said Levinja. And then she gasped again as the boy's hands slid down her top, the material of her tunic no longer separating his skin from hers. His hands, trembling, slipped over her boobs, and he squeezed them gently. 

Levinja bit back a moan. Her nipples, hard before the boy had even touched her, were like rock now, pressing against the softness of his palms. Yes, they were the hands of a boy still tender and untouched, untested in combat or in love. 

Levinja squirmed. “There's no weapon hidden there!” she squealed. 

The boy tore his hands away. Had her words shamed him? But if they had, it did not stop him from bringing his hands now along her back, half-patting, half-stroking, continuing his mock search for a weapon he knew was not there.

He reached the small of her back and rested his hand there. Levinja could not see him now, but she knew he must be hesitating, unsure of how she would react to more intimate exploration.

Levinja closed her eyes and felt her heart's rapid pulse. If she'd read the boy correctly, there was a thin layer of sadism hiding under the gentleness of his touch and his hesitation. She had seen it in the curl of his lip and the sparkle of his eyes, felt it in the firm squeezing of her breasts. Yes, although an innocent boy, he was still one of his kind.

And so she twisted her hips and gave a little yelp when he cupped one of her buttocks with a hand. She knew he would enjoy a captive who was at least a little resistant and unwilling. Besides, if she were too eager she would no doubt remind him of those fierce matriarchs who made his life a misery. 

She knew she had read him right when she felt the hem of her tunic being flicked up almost dismissively, baring her underwear-covered bottom. 

“Wh– what are you doing?” she squealed. 

“I must search everywhere,” he said. There was still a hint of apology in his voice – habits of a young lifetime did not change so soon, of course – but there was also the breathless heat of excitement.

A hand slid down over one generously rounded cheek and then moved to the other. Levinja squirmed, pressing her thighs together. No doubt the little imp would take it as a futile attempt to escape his touch, but in truth she was already soaking wet and her sex was tingling with a familiar hungry heat. She wanted the boy's fingers to touch her more intimately, to give relief from the tension rising inside her, tightening her chest and setting a gentle flame alight within her marrow. The squeezing sent a jolt of pleasure through her and she cried out.

The imp took it as a cry of distress and, emboldened, he grabbed hold of both the cheeks of her bottom and squeezed them. Oh, what was it with boys and squeezing! Levinja twisted her hips and gasped, warming to the part of a resisting captive maiden.

Maiden! She laughed inwardly at the thought. But oh, this playful coyness reminded her of the first time she had been touched by a male. He had been as eager as this little imp boy, and just as inexperienced, and she, although knowing what she wanted, had had to tempt the lad into doing his job as a man. 

The imp's hands slid from her buttocks and for a moment Levinja was concerned she had taken her act too far. But she was soon reappraised of the fact when one buttock received a resounding slap.

She gasped, more from surprise than pain, and gasped again when her other buttock received the same treatment.

“Oh!”

“Stop squirming,” hissed the boy. “You can't escape. These roots obey only imp-magic. They will not release you without my permission.”

He was trying to make his high voice as threatening as possible and Levinja's heart jumped at how adorably fierce he sounded. 

“I– I see,” she said. “But you see now I have no other weapon. Please... you have to let me go!”

The imp boy chuckled. “Perhaps I will. After I have taken what I want from you.”

“Wh– what is it that you want?” whispered Levinja. Her blood was running hot, now, and she hope the boy would keep this adorably masterful persona. 

“You have trespassed in the territory of the imps,” the boy explained. “And you must be punished.”

“But... but I thought that the matriarchs...”

She heard the boy's sharp intake of breath, but the little imp was so impassioned now that even the fear of those draconian females would not stop him. He gave a laugh which tried not to sound nervous.

“They need not know,” he said quickly. “Once I have punished you, I will release you. You mean us no harm, as you said before, didn't you?”

“Yes,” she replied, hoping the cracking of her voice sounded submissive rather than the desperate attempt to hide her lewd eagerness it was. 

“Then perhaps I will let you go,” he said, stroking her bottom. He was clearly one those boys who preferred butts to boobs. “If you please me.”

“Please you?” Wait. No, Levinja – don't play too dumb. “I– I see.”

She felt his talons slide under the waistband of her underwear. “You understand, then?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “I will do whatever you wish. Just please, release me.”

“After I have taken what I want,” he said.

Her underwear slid down slowly and Levinja knew from the intake of his breath that the boy's eyes must be drinking deep of the sight of her nakedness from behind. 

Men had always admired her bottom and now she was older, it had gained a pleasing and pleasurable roundness. She was awash and no doubt the boy was treated to the full richness of her lewd scent as he stared amazed at her. 

She made no sound and listened to the boy's heavy breathing as he brought his face closer to her most intimate place. She could feel his warm breath on her and bit her lip. Oh, she hoped he would do more than just look!

The imp parted her buttocks gently, his thumbs on either side of her sex. Levinja cried out, then, and kicked her legs. That might give him the push he needed!

He gripped hold of her hips and hissed, no words, just a warning, and a heartbeat later he plunged his face between the cheeks of her bottom and began kissing her there. He rubbed his face back and forth with childish abandon which set her buttocks wobbling. Levinja began to pant. He really had no idea what he was doing, but the heat of his breath and his wet tongue were a delight when they touched the right places. She pushed her hips back, driving her sex against his lips, not wanting gently mouthed kisses but the rough licking she ached for. 

“Don't lick me there!” she cried out and the imp, slipping his hands off her hips and back onto her buttocks, started to lick at the slit of her sex, from her engorged button to the pucker of her anus. 

The imp explored her with his tongue and Levinja, playing the part of a ravished captive, swallowed back her cries of pleasure and gave a half-hearted kick of her bound legs. She hung her head, a thin thread of saliva dripping from her open lips as the imp took what he thought was his own selfish pleasure. The foolish creature!

Levinja felt the boy's face shaking and she realised he was pleasuring himself as he licked her. The thought of him spilling his beautiful semen uselessly across the floor rather than filling her womb or mouth sent a thrill of desperation through her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked through gasps. 

He pulled his lips from her, like a little boy caught doing something wrong, and stumbled back. “Nothing,” he said. 

She looked down between her legs from beneath and saw him there, crouched upside down, shyly shielding his rigid member from her gaze. 

“You shouldn't keep such a beautiful weapon to yourself,” murmured Levinja. “A female may be tamed many ways with it, you know.”

He stared at her, wide-eyed. 

“You're a virgin, aren't you?” she said.

The imp frowned, displaying sharp teeth. “I am not!” His yellow eyes took on a hurt cast.

“Oh dear,” sighed Levinja. So even imp-boys were sensitive! “One who was not a virgin would know what other pleasures can be taken from a woman.”

“I am not a virgin!” he cried. “I am not!” 

He strode around to her front . His loin cloth was peaked by his erection as he confronted her. Ah, so the boy had something to prove now! 

“Is that so?” said Levinja. “Well, prove it to me, then. I'm guessing you don't know a woman can pleasure a man with her mouth, do you?”

The boy took a step back, blinking. He shook his head and burst out angrily. “Of course I do!” He pulled aside the material of his loincloth and poked his naked, angry member at her.

Ah! Close up Levinja was able to finally appreciate his gorgeous organ. No, he was not unendowed. The head was purple and angry and slick with his already profusely spilling juices.

Levinja smiled at him, attempting a sneer but not doing a very good job of it, she knew. “So you know, do you? Then show me!”

The imp, eyes flashing, took hold of her hair roughly with one hand and pushed his hips at her. His hardness pressed up against her closed lips, staining them with the heat of his excitement, and Levinja, tired of acting coy and aching to taste him, opened her mouth willingly.

He slid right into her mouth, the head skidding over her tongue and leaving a rich taste of hot salt. He was not gentle and Levinja was forced to part her lips further to accommodate the boy's rampant organ as he thrust it down her throat. 

She breathed through her nose as the imp humped her face, leaving her lips bruised, her nostrils filled with the masculine scent which was thick in the tiny patch of pubic hair at the base of his deliciously smooth belly. Levinja wished she could reach up and stroke that delightful expanse of smooth skin, but her immobility added a sharp piquancy to her pleasure. The boy was dominating her willing body and a lewdness she had seldom enjoyed sent more of her juices spilling down her thighs. 

The boy's thrusting grew more eager and Levinja knew he was growing close to reaching the limit of his endurance. Her thighs ached for her own release, but she knew better than to let the desires of her body overrule the reason of her brain. She licked at the base of the shaft slipping back and forth in her mouth, teasing the tender spot just beneath the head. No male, human or monster, could resist that – that spot was the centre of a male's pleasure. The imp groaned and gripping her head sharply he penetrated her mouth with a series of short, desperate thrusts. The soft sack bouncing against her chin grew tight and a sharp salty flavour filled her mouth. Levinja bobbed her head swiftly, not wanting to lose the chance of bringing this eager boy to fruition. She pulled back her head, letting her lips scour the base of the head of his rampant member and with a girlish cry he came. In his eagerness his penis slipped out of her mouth and sent the first blast of his semen streaking over her cheek, a scalding line of stickiness, but Levinja, with the experience of one who had brought many such eager young organs to completion, caught his bobbing and spurting member between her lips and directed the rest of his flood into her mouth.

She swallowed as the imp boy, his melodramatic gasps and pants like those of one dying, slumped against her, his hands no longer cruelly holding her fast but stroking her back. He had been overeager rather than cruel, perhaps, but Levinja's heart smarted at the boy's arrogance. Still, she continued to play the part of the submissive captive, gasping out her breath against the smooth thigh pressing her face.

The imp, languid with his ebbing pleasure, did not notice when she quickly grasped the hilt of the dagger at his side between her teeth. A swift cut with a jerk of her head and the root around her right wrist fell away. The dagger quickly found its way into her palm and she silently shore away the roots around her remaining hand. 

Levinja fell to the floor, shielding her fall with her free hand as the startled boy, no longer held up against her body, fell back onto the ground. A singles slash of the dagger saw to the tendrils still around her ankles and she rolled, her muscles, sore after so many hours of hanging spread-eagled, burning with the effort. Her blood burned, too, with an aching need that the boy's naïve kisses and licking and the lingering taste of his rich essence on her lips and tongue had left. She kicked off her sodden underwear and with a grunt threw her hips over the boy lying dazed on the ground. Squeezing his slender legs together between her thighs, she pinned his arms at the elbow with her free hand and the wrist of the hand in which she still held his dagger. 

The boy cried out in alarm, but Levinja pushed her entire weight down on him. In his languor he could do little but struggle ineffectually. 

The boy's skin was warm to the touch, almost feverish, and gorgeously smooth, without a single hair. Levinja wondered whether the heat of his body was from the exertion of his molesting of her, or whether all imps, being creatures of the fiery element, felt so warm. 

Levinja burned, too. The sweat on her brow dripped onto his face and neck as she grinned down at him. No more need now to play that silly game of demure captive! No, now she would play the role of ravisher. 

She leaned back and with a feverish eagerness pulled her tunic up and over her head and tossed it aside. The boy gaped at her full nakedness, his yellow eyes wide. He looked even younger now, trapped beneath her towering nude body. 

“Let me go!” he cried, and with it he burst out with renewed struggles.  
Levinja pushed down hard, a little too hard perhaps – and squeezed with her knees until he grimaced at the pain. She relented, but fixed his eyes with her own and licked her lips. 

“There's no need to struggle,” she murmured. “Like I said before, I will not hurt you.” Her eyes slid onto the knife in her hand and the boy's followed them. “But you must do everything I say and not try to escape.”

She met his eyes again and narrowed her own. Yes, she was the scary knight, now, one who would brook no disobedience. It was the same look she had turned on her husband whenever he had done something wrong, on her sons whenever they had broken some rule, or on some acolyte knight who was displaying laziness or incompetence. 

It certainly left an impression on the boy who gaped up at her in sudden fear. Levinja felt a little sting of guilt, but only for a moment. The boy had taken liberties with her while she had been incapacitated, and even if she had enjoyed them, they were certainly deserving of punishment.

She pressed her body down on his torso and reached across and grabbed a length of the flexible root she had cut off when she had released herself. With the magic exhausted, the tendrils lay there motionless, no more dangerous than any normal tree roots. But they would come in useful.

She pulled back a little and the boy moved, but her eyes warned him not to try anything. She put the dagger aside and quickly bound his wrists together. With her weight on his lower body, the boy knew better than to test her. All he could have done was slap or punch at her, but Levinja's act had done its work. He believed everything she had said and feared the blade. 

She knotted the smooth root quickly, but loosely. He was not a real captive of war, but if she was to have her fun she would need ensure he could not escape. After raising herself back onto her haunches, she retrieved the knife, grabbed another length of root, cut it back and slid it around the boy's knees. She bound these together, too, but as she did she could not resist stroking those supple thighs for a delicious moment.

She muttered deep in her throat, a delighted purr. 

“Yes,” she murmured. “For such a naughty boy you are certainly comely.” 

She finished knotting the root and finally eased herself back so that her weight was no longer on him. She'd expected him to try something, to roll away or squirm himself out first chance he got, but he just lay there, staring up at her, testing the bonds which held him fast.

Levinja looked down at him and smirked. “A knight is an expert at many things, and binding captives is one of them.” She leaned down and brought her face close to his. Ah, yes she could taste his breath, now. She let her lips brush across his in an almost-kiss and felt a rush of heat between her thighs. “But it's not the only thing I am an expert in.” 

The boy had ceased struggling, now. Perhaps he knew what she had in store for him – or perhaps, like she had done earlier, he was conserving his energy until a chance to escape presented itself. He watched her as her hands fell to his chest and stroked it. Ah, not a single hair! In fact, he was totally hairless except for the now-tousled hair on the top of his head. Levinja, biting her bottom lip, let her hands wander until his nipples were pressing into her palms. The boy gasped and she squeezed his chest, making him gasp again. 

Ah, she could wait no longer! Her mouth watered. But she could not do what she was going to do and not know...

“Your name?” Levinja asked as her hands continued their exploration, taking in every delightfully smooth curve of his shoulders and arms. 

The boy was taken aback by her question. “J– jameth,” he stuttered.

“Jajameth?” Levinja teased, her eyes sparkling, her hands still wandering over his darkly-hued flesh.

“N-no,” said the boy. “It's just Jameth-ah!” Levinja's hands had fallen to his flanks and her fingers now danced along his sides. A desperate laugh burst from him, but he bit it back and tried to squirm away from her.

“Ah,” she said. “So it's Jametha, then.” She tickled him once more and again that adorable laugh burst from him. “A pretty name, fitting for such a girlish boy.” She smiled. “Although not all of you is girlish.”

Her hands slid down onto his loin-cloth. She'd noticed that it had begun to peak and she very much wanted to sample again that beautiful length, but on her own terms this time. 

She tickled him once more and left him to squirm as she sat back on her haunches, still straddling him. Jameth, his chest heaving as the last of the ticklishness passed, looked up. His eyes fell straight on her breasts.

Levinja, smirking, arched her back wantonly so that they grew even more pronounced. She met his gaze and hefted a breast in each hand. Her nipples were as hard as his were now, but far larger, the areolae like dark disks.

“I wonder if your matriarchs have breasts such as these,” murmured Levinja. “Are these the first human breasts you've seen?”

Jameth swallowed and nodded.

“Perhaps the first breasts you've ever seen,” she added with a wink and she knew her guess was true when Jameth blushed and averted his gaze.

Ah, his new-found submissiveness was kindling a blaze in her blood! 

She was behaving too kindly, she decided. It was hard for her to maintain the mask of haughty ravisher, but she had to try. She let her lips fall into a smirk, her eyes drinking in every part of the boyish captive beneath her – his tousled hair with the two tiny little horns, his small wings splayed out against the rock of the corridor floor. She could feel his pointed tail, curving up between his legs, shifting the air behind her with its nervous flicking. 

Levinja's grin deepened. “Nervous? You should be, little one. You were very, very disrespectful to me before, and a slight on the honour of a knight is not easily forgiven.” She slowly leaned down, letting the full size and voluptuousness of her body intimidate him until her face was within kissing distance of his. “I'm going to take my full satisfaction from your body as you did from mine.”

Jameth's mouth opened in shock and the rising tension in Levinja melted in a liquid rush between her thighs. Ah! Playing the ravisher would make her come without even touching the boy! 

She knew then she could no longer dally. She grabbed his bound hands and pushed them up and back, leaving his chest wide-open to her sudden and frenzied attack. Her lips surrounded one nipple straight away and she scoured the rigid point with lashes of her tongue. Jameth cried out and began to struggle again, but Levinja would have none of it. It was all an act, anyway, this wiggling about. It was more pleasure than distress, the melodramatic resistance of a maiden on her wedding-night, intended to draw more passion from her eager young groom. Well, Levinja was his groom, today, and she would not stop until she had consummated her desire. 

She left his nipple slick and red as her hungry mouth found the other and dealt it the same lashing. His chest was so smooth, still retaining the softness of puppy-fat, and she was able to suck his flesh into her mouth as though he had the tiny breasts of a young girl. 

The breast with its nipple popped from her mouth, an angry red welt left from her over-eager lips. Levinja admired her handiwork for a single heartbeat, then she fell upon his smooth, flat tummy, drawing her tongue along it, the edges of her teeth scoring his skin as she left a wet trail of her saliva across the heaving dip of his diaphragm. Ah, he enjoyed this! He had begun to pant, his squirming coming now from below his waist. Her breasts, hanging free, encountered a rock-hard rigidity she could not see.

She abandoned his hands and blindly fished his beautiful length from under the material of his loin cloth. She was teasing herself, she knew, as much as she was teasing this gasping and panting boy, but she could not stop herself. Her fingertips fluttered along his hardness, her thumb finding the tender underside of the head and stroking it. Jameth gave a little cry and she felt a hot stickiness. Oh no, he was coming! 

But no – it was just the early flood of fluid that so often happened. As she stroked the stickiness along his shaft, it lost none of its potent hardness. And all the while she kept up her kissing and licking attack on his delicious body. Every inch of his tummy and lower abdomen fell to her wet tongue, and she dallied especially at his belly-button, dipping her tongue into it.

His erection flooded again, leaving a sticky spot on her middle and Levinja knew she could no longer delight in this game, or else the boy would soon splash the rest of his hot seed across her body. 

No, she would not permit such a waste! She tore her lips from his skin and pulled back, towering over the boy. Her own chest heaving, her face flushed from her need, she manoeuvred herself forward with an awkward shift of her hips, making sure he was still captured between her knees. With her experienced hand guiding his rampant member she wiggled forward and felt the slimy head press against her button. Gods, she was sopping! Her juices were literally dripping from her, coating the boy's hardness.

Jameth, wide-eyed, cried out, but she didn't hear him. Her entire being was focussed on the excruciating pleasure streaming up through her body as the head of the boy's erection pierced her swollen lips and speared straight up into her. 

Levinja cried out – no, it was more a scream than a cry – and she rolled herself forward until the boy was in her up to the hilt, her sodden and sticky pubic-hair flush with his smooth abdomen. Levinja bit her lip, trying hard to keep her mind together as it reeled with intense waves of pleasure, and somehow her hands found the stone floor on either side of the boy's bound body. She pressed her palms downwards and pushed herself up. 

His member sliding back out was almost as pleasurable as when it had slid into her, and Jameth's desperate voice echoed from the stone walls. Levinja grinned down at him. Yes, let him fill these tunnels with his cries while she took every iota of pleasure from his innocent body! 

She rolled her hips forward, then back again, quickly. No elegance, now – she needed him deep inside her, needed his virginal semen filling her. Levinja began humping him eagerly, his shaft plunging in and out of her dripping sex with a lewd wetness that made her lose the little control she still had. Her breasts swinging, the cheeks of her bottom slapping against the boy's thighs, her hips became a blur. She grunted as she engulfed him, sweat rolling down her body, saliva dripping from her slackly open mouth onto the boy's ecstatic face. With every penetration deep inside her, a cry leaped from Jameth's lips, driving Levinja to redouble her efforts. 

No words passed between the two, no other sound but Levinja's lusty grunts and Jameth's gasps and pants. The knight's palms scraped against the dusty floor of the corridor, the small of her back and her thighs burning with her exertion, but the pain only added to the pleasure which was pouring through her. Gods! This boy had made her lose herself. There were no tender words, no gentle touches this time – no, Levinja smashed her hips down on him again and again, her glistening breasts squashing against the boy's chest as his smaller body bounced up to meet hers. It was as though she was doing push-ups in the exercise fields of the academy again, the sweat pouring off her, but her grunts were those of a rampant mature female in heat, not the pained sounds of a knight-in-training.

In no time at all Jameth gave a louder cry and Levinja felt the hardness plunging into her double in rigidity – or so it felt to her. She humped him faster, knowing he was not long from reaching the summit of his pleasure – she was not far from her own, either. No, in fact she'd almost come several times already, the stickiness of the near-climaxes plastering their bodies together. Jameth's penis was so slick she feared he would slip out of her in this final moment, and so she pressed herself down harder, making the boy yelp. 

Then he was coming, his gorgeous male organ splattering its first blast of blistering hot fluid inside a female. Levinja shouted, crushing herself down on him and Jameth shouted too, a cry of unrestrained ecstasy. He thrust his hips up in the instinctive rut that even the most inexperienced male knows how to do, stabbing his spurting member into her again and again. Levinja's breath exploded from her, a deep guttural gasp as her swollen womb was left dripping with the flood of the boy's essence. 

He seemed never to stop, but at last his spurting slowed and the heat inside Levinja lessened. His semen poured out of her, mixed with the surge of her own lewd fluids – so copious and liquid that for a moment she feared she'd peed herself as she'd come. 

Jameth's eyes opened, those beautiful jewelled eyes, and Levinja kept humping him, but gently now, subdued by exhaustion and the pleasure still washing through her body. Even though they had both come together, she didn't want this beautiful joining to end. 

Able to think clearer now, she dipped her head through the crook of his bound arms. His hands slid around her neck and Levinja was able at last to press her mouth against the boy's gasping lips. Her tongue delved into the salty deliciousness of his mouth, basting every corner with her saliva.

Gentleness overwhelmed her heart, then. With the boy embracing her, the ravishing knight fled away and Levinja melted again into the loving, maternal woman. Her bites became soft kisses, her growls tender purring as she peppered him with light touches of her lips and tongue.

Jameth gasped against her lips, the last of his pleasure pumping through his body. He was surprised by the sudden tenderness and he did not move but let her kiss him. 

“Oh my darling,” breathed Levinja. “My beautiful Jameth, you did so well.” The tender kisses upon his mouth at last coaxed him to respond and Jameth pursed his lips and lightly kissed her back.

The knight sighed deep in her chest, moved by his warming to her and she melted beneath her waist. You lewd creature! The boy's inexperienced kisses were already heating her blood again.

Levinja unwillingly withdrew her head and neck from the embrace of his bound hands and eased her naked, sweaty body off the boy, letting his now-soft member pop free. He gasped, still sensitive, and sucked in a lungful of his breath as the pressure of her weighing down upon his chest was alleviated. With a gasp of her own, but this time of pain, Levinja sat back on her knees. Her thighs and legs were aching, her buttocks too, and with a sigh of relief she rolled onto her side beside him. Her greater height was far more obvious now their bodies were flush together and she drew Jameth to her, cradling him in her embrace. The imp let her and he gave no protest when she kissed his sweaty, tousled hair between his horns and stroked his back. His immature wings, free now, furled and unfurled, and Levinja felt a little sting of guilt at how she had crushed him beneath her as she had taken her selfish pleasure from his virgin body.

Her hands slid down onto his loincloth-covered butt and she squeezed it. Jameth made a sound she couldn't decipher against her chest – his face was firmly nestled between her boobs – and she murmured happily to him in response. The base of his forked tail brushed across the back of her hands as he whipped the air with it. Ah, the joy of laying with a monster boy! Each of them had some new and delightful difference.

Levinja felt her breathing slow, her body grow languid with the drain of her climax. Oh, she wished she could fall asleep holding this delicious creature to her chest. But she knew the dangers of doing so, and besides, her body was greasy with drying sweat and her thighs and still-swollen sex and pubic hair were matted with their shared juices. 

“Is there somewhere we can bathe nearby?” she murmured into his hair. That delicious boyish scent of him, stronger after his sweaty exertions! Part of her wanted to stay and enjoy that smell, but she knew he would wish to cleanse himself as well.

She felt him nod. “There is a hot spring,” he said. 

“Will there be other imps there?”

He shook his head. “No. It is a quiet place,” he murmured, sleepy as she was. “Few go there.”

“Ah, so it is your secret little getaway,” Levinja chuckled.

“I do not know the word,” said Jameth.

Levinja drew her hands down to his chin, lifted his face to her and stroked the locks of hair before his charmingly pointed ears. “It doesn't matter,” she said. She gave him a kiss, then glanced down at his still-bound hands between them.”Those silly bonds. I hope they didn't hurt you too much.”

He shook his head. “They do not hurt,” he said, his earlier pride returning to his voice.

“We have lain together,” said Levinja. “As males and females do. There is trust between us now I hope. You know I do not want to harm you, yes?”

Another nod of his tousled head. 

“Good boy. So if I undo these bonds, you promise not to run away?”

“I will not run away,” he said. “But what are we going to –?”

Levinja chuckled. “Take me to that hot spring. We'll bathe together. You're hot and sticky like me, aren't you?”

The boy, blushing deeply, his face hot against her now cool skin, nodded. 

Levinja said no more. She did not mention her desire to feel again that delightful rigidity inside her, to taste once more his masculine essence that still filled her mouth. No, but she suspected he would not resist her further advances after he had had time to recover his energy.

She took his blade and cut through the bonds, first of his hands and then of his feet. He stood up shakily, and Levinja watched him. Despite her words, she still did not know whether he would flee or not. She hoped he would not, as she would have to let him go. The thought of chasing after him, naked, her heavy breasts swinging as she chased him down like some crazed rapist, made her blush with imagined shame. 

He rubbed at his wrists and Levinja, guilty, stood and took his hands and rubbed them for him. He hopped from one leg to another.

“So,” said Levinja, keeping one of the imp-boy's hand in her own as she collected up her clothes and armour and placed them under her other arm. “Lead me to this secret place of yours.”

\-----------

Levnija surged out of the steaming water, gasping and panting with heat and pleasure. The mineral-scented water sluiced from her heaving breasts and dripped from the base of the wave of dark hair plastered over her now-pink shoulders and back.

Jameth watched her from nearby, submerged up to his neck in the hot water.

Levinja grinned at him, rubbing her side and belly and breasts in a unashamed display, then let her eyes fall over his little “getaway.” Ah, such an exquisitely beautiful place! Nestled among some huge rocks with part of it open to the sky, water bubbled clear from deep within the earth. An earthy scent clung to the veils of steam rising from the hot water.

Levinja felt Jameth's eyes on her and she glanced his way. He had been watching her, of course – he ducked away, his face growing pink from shame rather than from the heat of the spring. She gave a melodramatic little gasp and slipped quickly into the water, as though shocked by his peeping. 

The water was shallow and she squatted so that it was up to her neck. Under its cloak, she allowed her fingers to slip between her thighs and gently test her sex. She was puffy and swollen, delightfully sore from their earlier exertions. Her fingers slid inside, where she encountered stickiness and she bit her bottom lip . He had spurted a copious amount inside her and her hungry womb had sucked much of it in, not wanting to lose it. Her thumb brushed her button – oh no! It was rock-hard again. Was it something in these waters, or something in the air of this volcanic locale that heated her blood so quickly? 

But no – she looked across to Jameth, who was washing himself under the water as well. This time he did not turn away – her dangerously lewd curves, her huge breasts and thighs and her wide hips were all discretely hidden by the water – and he blinked at her. 

Such shyness compared to that earlier dominating personality! Levinja's fingers danced. Oh, he had been a little too forceful, but still she had enjoyed it. And her proud knight's heart had taken its revenge on his tender flesh. 

And yet – Levinja did not want the boy to think that all sex was like what had transpired between them. Although she had no doubt that imps, with their strict society and tendency to sadism, were generally ungentle in their mating, it did not mean that he had to be the same. His soft kisses, shy and unsure, which had met her lips after they had come together, jumped to her mind and her flesh grew slick about her fingers, her button throbbing. Ah, those butterfly kisses! She wanted more of them.

She slid her fingers out of herself – she did not want to grow too tense. After all, the boy may not be open to lying with her again and she did not want to force him, not this time. She casually slipped through the water in his direction, acting as though she was making for a little niche of rock close to him. Her gambit worked and Jameth watched her but did not move away. Levinja eased herself in between the smooth rocks, letting her breasts half-rise from the water. Her nipples remained submerged, appearing every now and again when she displaced the water with her body in order to get more comfortable.

“Beautiful,” she breathed. Jameth looked at her and nodded self-consciously . Levinja smiled, her most nurturing, gentle smile. Beautiful – she'd meant it about the boy within touching distance of her, bobbing in the water. With his dark hair slick against the back of his head and neck, he looked especially childish. His little horns, still growing no doubt, stuck out all the more pronounced, his dark skin tinted with a gentle pink from the heat of the water, extending from his face down his neck to his glorious shoulders and collar just above the waterline. 

“This is a secret place for you?” Levinja asked. Jameth nodded again, but then opened his lips – he knew some answer was expected of him.

“I come here sometimes,” he said. “Patrolling this part of the caves is boring.”

“Ah,” said Levinja. “And yet sometimes important jobs are boring.”

Jameth snorted. “Useless and boring. The matriarchs always give such jobs to us,” he said. “They do not trust us to do the more important ones.”

Levinja murmured, that supportive sound that males enjoy hearing from females when complaining about some trivial problem or other.

“And yet a fortunate job,” she added. “To have shown you such a lovely place as this.”

Jameth made a sound in his throat that meant approval. 

“Lovely,” continued Levinja. “But perhaps a little lonely, too.”

Jameth's eyes fell from considering his grotto to Levinja. His face was puzzled. “Lonely?” he repeated. He looked away. “Maybe. But I like being alone.”

“Ah,” said Levinja. She knew her words had found some untouched spot in his heart. No doubt the matriarchs had few kind words for their subordinates. And she knew what he wanted from her. “I hope I haven't disturbed your peace too much.”

Jameth turned back to her, his face flushing as he shook his head. “No,” he said. 

Levinja knew it was the time to strike. She leaned forward, reached out for him and found his hand under the water. He tensed but did not flee from her and she held it.

“Being a young male is hard,” she said. “But it won't always be so. I know you will grow into a powerful male. After all, you defeated me, did you not? And that is no small feat. Few males have made me theirs.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes glittering as Jameth considered her words, his eyes not leaving hers. “I am sorry for being so cruel to you,” he said suddenly.

Levinja shook her head. “There's no more need to apologise. But thank you for your kind words.”

She slid forward in the water, coming out of the niche, and drew close to Jameth. He did not resist when she slid her arms around him. He stood there, looking at her for a moment, then reached his arms around her taller body and hugged her back.

Levinja's right hand slipped up to his face, moved a sodden black lock from the imp-boy's eyes, pushing it back behind a pointed ear to caress the side of his face. He closed his eyes and sighed, moving into her caress like a cat and Levinja thought her heart would melt.

“Good boy,” she murmured. 

Levinja glanced across at the rock where his loincloth was drying, and nearby her own garments and her armour. Yes, the two of them were naked here, together, in the water. In her arms his unclothed body seemed even smaller, but surely the removal of a loincloth could not effect such a transformation? No, it was her maternal heart which was doing it.

She held him tight, her boobs squashing against his face as she slicked his wet hair back. She lowered her lips to his forehead and kissed his flushed skin and the boy, muttering, pushed his face deeper into her chest.  
Levinja felt the heat in her rising, the growing pressure between her legs. Oh. what a lewd creature she was, that her maternal heart was so closely married to that source of her most impure impulses! But the boy was no different – his member was pressing hard against her thighs. She may have intended this to be sort of hug that a mother and son might share, but boys would be boys, after all – and she was who she was, too. 

Levinja let the hand which wasn't stroking the boy's hair slip down the smooth skin of his shoulder and into the water, along his arm to his waist where that gorgeous length awaited her. He stumbled back awkwardly, letting her take it in her hand. Ah yes, her soft kisses has brought this about. It seemed Jameth was as inflamed by gentleness as she was. 

“Ah,” she murmured into his wet hair. “So you're ready again, it seems. But I wonder if you are ready to make love for the first time?”

“Make love?” Jameth looked up at her, confused. “But we –” 

Levinja laughed softly. “We've already lain together, but we've not yet made love.” Her lips traced the length of a charmingly pointed ear as she whispered. “It's very different, making love. I must confess, that when you took me – I delighted in being your victim. And I think, perhaps, you enjoyed when I made you mine as well.”

Jameth's skin grew hot and he buried his face in the safety of her wet cleavage. 

“So,” she breathed, feeling the marrow of her bones melting away at the boy's sudden timidness. “Would you like to make love, Jameth?”

He did not look up, but nodded. 

Levinja kissed his sodden forehead, then took his hand. Through the hot water she led him to a flat rock, wreathed in steam, near where their clothes were drying together. She dropped his hand and lifted herself up backwards with as much grace as she could muster, the water pouring off her pink body. She slid sideways, drawing the little imp up out of the water beside her. She pulled him closer until his steaming body was flush with hers, then leaned down, catching his lips with her own, and kissed him, this time with the gentle kiss of a lover rather than the hungry anger of a ravisher. Her gentleness left him gasping and she took hold of the hand in his lap, where it was striving to hide his rock-hard erection, and stroked it, murmuring gently calming sounds.

She cupped his chin, her fingers delving into the sodden hair plastered at the side of his face. Jameth inclined his head and closed his eyes and Levinja, chuckling with delight, renewed their kiss. The tip of his tongue slipped from between his lips to meet hers, but he was inexperienced and licked rather than kissed her mouth. Levinja gently guided his over-eager tongue with her own, showing him what to do. And all the while she held him close to her with the curve of her arm and stroked the smooth glossiness of his face.

Levinja broke the kiss at last. Jameth, his tongue slipping back between his parted lips, opened his eyes and gazed at her. She smiled, knowing well the eager heat contained within their amber expanse, the desire of a young male desperate to be fulfilled. Her hand slipped along his neck, down over his chest, the fingers brushing one hard nipple before skipping over his taut belly to where his hands still waited in his lap. She drew them onto her breasts and left them there. Jameth squeezed her breasts eagerly, amazed by the size of them, his eyes glued to them hungrily as he filled his hands to overflowing with their softness. Levinja bit her lip as his thumbs drummed over her rock-hard nipples.

“Oh!” she gasped. She took hold of his hands again and the imp glanced at her in surprise, but her smile calmed the fear that he had hurt her.

“Women love it when you touch their breasts,” she said, guiding his hands so that his fingers traced the curve of them, dancing over the soft expanse of skin beneath them where her ribs were hidden beneath her flesh. “But gentle is always better than squeezing, and there is so much more to them than just the nipples.”

She murmured encouragement to him as she led his hands across her body. Soon Jameth knew where he should touch next, and she left his hands to their own devices, to follow the gentle undulation of her belly, her curving waist, the softness just above the thick expanse of her pubic-hair, the inside of her thigh. Her gentle gasps and shivers fascinated him and he learned quickly.

Ah, but this was the touch of one who instinctively knows what a woman desires, Levinja thought. She closed her eyes, caressed his smooth back and sides as she held him. His touch was igniting her blood, sending her heart racing. 

Yes, Levinja had no doubt that one of those haughty matriarchs who had made Jameth's life so hard would soon find herself naked on her back, legs splayed, the weight of this beautiful boy pressing down on her, gasping out her pleasure and shaking her head in disbelief at how quickly she had allowed herself to fall victim to his desire. The lewd image of Jameth ravishing this matriarch of her mind, one who looked not unlike herself, made Levinja flood. She lifted Jameth up, her hands sliding over the full roundness of his naked buttocks and she kissed his neck.

“Sweet Jameth,” she breathed as her teeth and tongue delighted in the softness of his throat. “Please.” 

She lay back on the warm rock, drew the boy down on top of her. A frisson of pleasure shivered through her. She loved having the weight of a naked male covering her. She slid one leg underneath him, parted her thighs as the matriarch had done in her fantasy so that he was nestled between them. Her hands did not leave his bottom and she pulled him closer, his hardness sliding over her swollen and sopping sex. Gods, she was wet! She drew Jameth up, her lips slightly open, her eyes pleading. The boy knew what she desired and he leaned down and kissed her, the delving of his agile tongue sending delight throbbing through her.

He slid against her, their bodies still warm and slick from the steam. The base of his shaft rubbed back and forth across her swollen button and she was soon gasping out her need against his bruising lips. 

“Please,” she murmured. “Please, Jameth.”

Ah, there was that streak of sadism in the imp-boy's heart again! But he did not leave her tormented for long. He arched his buttocks and the head of his erection speared straight up inside her to the hilt , forcing a desperate cry of joy from her. Jameth quickly drew himself back, then thrust again. He had come twice already and yet he was still so hard! Levinja knew the matriarchs of the imps would soon learn humility from this beautiful organ. 

But for now, he was hers to enjoy. She grasped his buttocks, pulling him again and again inside her, crying out her rising pleasure with every thrust. She parted her legs further, drawing back her knees to allow the ecstatic boy to delve deeper still into her. Oh, but this was the angle she loved! Her thick pubic hair was visible to her now, at the summit of her raised abdomen, the boy's rigid member spearing down again and again into her, the shaft glistening with a thick coating of her excitement.

Jameth's thrusting became frenzied and Levinja's head and shoulders were forced back against the slick rock as she pushed her hips back at him. The imp's face was a mask of intoxicated pleasure, his amber eyes distant, his mouth slightly open, his tongue licking at his lips, and Levinja's heart filled to overflowing with love for the gorgeous monster-boy. 

Her hands slid up to beneath his wings and she pulled him down to kiss her. His tongue dove inside her mouth and she wrestled with the hot, slick wedge. He had learned so quickly, and his kisses were driving her to the edge of her endurance. Free now, his buttocks pumped even faster and Levinja began to cry out. Ah, but she was already coming, he body shuddering, her nails scoring the boy's back. Jameth, for all his inexperience, realised what was happening and his kissing grew more aggressive, his thrusting swifter. The darling boy wished for them to come together! But his stamina did not allow him to come quite so soon and Levinja broke the kiss to murmur sweet words of encouragement to him.

“Come, my darling Jameth,” she murmured, desperately kissing his chin and throat. “Come for me. Come inside me.”

Jameth gasped, his thrusts growing faster still. He buried his face in her heaving breasts, his lips finding a nipple which he sucked and bit. 

The imp-boy's teeth made Levinja cry out and she felt renewed pleasure pour across her. Gods, she was coming again! She gave full reign to her delight, crying out with his every piercing thrust which was driving wave after wave of pleasure through her. Her abandon at last drove Jameth over the edge and with his own strangled shout he came at last, flooding her with his blistering seed. Heat poured into her, the heat of her own climax as her body was left shaking, her sex throbbing with an almost painful surge of ecstasy. She was driven out of her mind, tossing her head as she rutted back up at him, the overflow of the boy's semen scooped out of her with his slowing thrusts plastering her thighs and the cleft of her buttocks.

Jameth drove into her one final time then collapsed with a gasp on top of her. Levinja was there to catch him in her arms, crushing him to her as she peppered his lips and cheeks with kisses.

“Oh, Jameth,” she murmured. “Oh, my darling Jameth!”

The boy said nothing, just gasped softly, his chest rising and falling on her own. She stroked his sweaty buttocks and back lazily , luxuriating in the sore and sensitive feeling of her entire body. At last she felt satiated, brought to completion by this virile little creature. Her womb tingled, filled she knew to overflowing with his final load of seed. Gods, he'd spurted out just as much as the first time, when he'd filled her mouth and throat to overflowing after he'd ravished her.

They lay together for a long while, delicious half-sleepy dreaming holding them together. Oh, but Levinja loved this moment most of all, when her mind fell back on the thoughts of their pleasure, when her entire body ached and her nerves tingled with the ghost of her climax. Ah, to have a delicious boy like this one with her every day! She would never, ever get out of bed. With the delightful nonsense of the dream-world, she imagined living back in the convent with Jameth, walking the corridors hand in hand with him to the envious eyes of her fellow nuns, taking him to her cell where she would...

She started. She'd fallen asleep! A dangerous situation. She rose on her elbows, her eyes scanning the grotto. No sound, just the gentle movement of the water. Jameth woke, then, and he sat up, his eyes wide with surprise as he took stock of where he was and what had happened. 

“We fell asleep,” murmured Levinja. “Luckily no matriarch came upon us. That would have been a difficult conversation!”

Jameth frowned at the thought, but then he smiled and shyly embraced her. 

“We have to wash again,” said Levinja, frowning at uncomfortable feeling of her sticky pubic hair plastered to her skin and the greasy remnants of sweat.

This time they washed together. Both of them had been satiated by that final act of lovemaking it seemed, but Levinja could still not resist playing with Jameth as they washed. His delicious shaft and balls were given extra care and attention, as were his nipples and chest. 

They dried and put their clothes back on. As Levija tied on her armour, she noticed the sad look on Jameth's face.

Ah, he understood, of course, that she could not remain. Her chest tightened. Truth was, she was finding it harder and harder to leave these boys behind. The Tower of Maona was not far away, she knew, surely only a few more days' journey. But as she got closer to her goal, she wondered about everything that had happened to her.

No. Better to push those doubts away, push those feelings down. She was a knight, was she not? She had a mission to fulfil.

Such thoughts steeled her. But the boy's heart, she knew, would not be so easily healed. She grabbed his hand and drew him to her.

“My darling,” she murmured into his dark hair. “I have to go.”

“I know,” said Jameth. “Your quest.”

“I'll never forget this time together with you.”

“Will you come back?”

Levinja blinked back tears. “I don't know,” she said. “But there will be other women, my darling.”

Ah yes, other women. Of course there would be. There was no way now that Jameth, having broken the seal of his innocence, could resist putting everything he head learned into practice. Levinja knew that it would not be long before he would have some pretty imp-girl crying out his name, or some matriarch eating out of his hand like a docile pet, tamed by the power of his sweet lips.

“I will lead you to the plain,” Jameth murmured.

Levinja nodded. She knew he was hurting, but the brave boy did not want to let her know. 

\------------------

They turned a corner around a great sheer wall of rock and the path burst suddenly into an incredible open vista that took Levinja's breath away. After so many days of grey rock it was a delight to see the the great wide sweep of the landscape once more, with its many colours of green, yellow, red and blue. A mighty river burrowed a deep ravine out of the earth amongst the waving grasslands punctuated by tendrils of forest, and on the horizon a lone peak dug into the heavens. Somewhere high on its slopes, amongst mist and clouds, the Tower of Maona waited for her – the end of her journey.

She turned to Jameth. The little imp-boy was standing beside her. He'd been watching as she'd gazed at the land before her, the expression of his face unreadable.

“Your quest is almost at an end,” he said quietly, echoing her thoughts. His eyes met hers and he turned away, flushing. “Will... will you come back this way, when you have found the Tower? To... to return to your home, I mean.”

Levinja took his hands in hers. “I do not know what will happen,” she murmured. “But I will try.”

“I... I want to see you again,” he said, still looking away from her. 

Levinja lifted a hand and turned him to face her. She leaned down and kissed him on the lips. The kiss grew hotter than she had intended, the tip of the boy's moist tongue poking shyly at her lips and she could not resist touching it with her own. Ah, his flavour! He really was a delight. 

She broke the kiss, unwillingly – but she knew she could not let herself be selfish. A thread of their saliva broke off and she licked her lips, ashamed that her growing desire was making their parting more difficult for him. 

“Jameth,” she said. “You will find some wonderful partner here. After what I have taught you, there are few females who will be able to resist your advances.”

“I don't want them,” he said. He threw his arms around her.  
Levinja stroked his naked back. “Now, don't be silly. I... I'm afraid I did you a disservice, taking your virginity and leaving you. I was selfish. I am selfish. But I promise you that you will forget about me when you meet your special someone.”

The imp murmured something Levinja couldn't make out and she kissed the top of his head. He pressed himself closer to her and she felt, then, something poking against her thigh. Oh no, he was hard again! The curse of young boys, and their blessing, that they were so easily brought to climax but just as quickly were ready again for another round.

She cuddled him closer. She was dressed in her armour now, and she could not just take it off. No, this was not about her, this moment. She had taken so much pleasure from this lad and he deserved some treat. No, she could not leave him like this – that would be the most unjust cruelty. 

Levinja crouched down and Jameth's eyes followed hers, questioning. She smiled warmly and drew a hand over the peak in his loincloth.

“A farewell present,” she murmured. “A little something for you to remember me by.” 

Her hand slid under the material and found his shaft and stroked it. Jameth gasped and his knees shivered.

No, darling one. I'm not going to take the cheap and easy way out that so many selfish women with hearts of stones do. No, I am going to treat you.

And treat myself, too.

She took hold of his hips and turned him around. Jameth was confused at first, but he let her. Then she pressed on the small of his back with one hand, making him bend over, while she took hold of the rear flap of his loin cloth. His tail got in the way, but she lifted it up, taking the bunched-up loincloth with it.

Levinja allowed herself a moment to appreciate the incredible beauty of the twin globes of his buttocks. More so than the other monster-boys she had lain with, Jameth's rear was a sight to behold. She let go of his tail and waist and let her hands fall over a buttock each. She squeezed them and Jameth stumbled forward.

“Careful,” she murmured. She brought her thumbs flush over the crack of his rear and then parted his buttocks.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Jameth gasped.

Levinja said nothing at first, drawing closer to admire the delightful pucker she had only touched with fingertips before. She could not just look, though, and dipped her head forward and drew a long, luxurious lick over it.

Jameth cried out and Levinja, her face buried in his butt now, slid her hands forward onto his waist and hold him in place as she basted his most intimate spot with her saliva. Jameth quickly decided he liked this game and leaned forward so that his buttocks parted further, and Levinja, with two soft cheeks against her face, burrowed a hungry tongue inside him. 

Jameth started panting and Levinja's hands curled around to rediscover the erection she had touched earlier. It was harder now, and as her fingers slid over the head she found him was dripping in his need. Now slick, her hands slid up and down in unison with the flicking of her tongue, and Jameth began to grunt. 

Ah yes, all males loved this. Levinja, too, delighted in the delicious earthy scent and taste of a male's body, and more so in how desperately lustful licking their anus always made them. Some women claimed that performing such an act was shameful, but Levinja loved the power it gave her – with a few flicks of her tongue a male became willing for anything.

But today this was all about treating the boy. She still felt a sting of guilt at how she had ravaged him, both his body and his heart. So she buried her face deeply between his buttocks, burrowing her tongue into the slick opening with as much lewd slurping sounds as she could manage when half-smothered by his soft flesh, and all the while stroked that sticky shaft in her hands. 

A new flood of fluid spilled out and stained her fingertips and Levinja knew there was no way Jameth could last any longer. She swung him around, sliding his erection straight down her throat and cleansing it of its sticky saltiness with enthusiastic lashes of her hungry tongue.

Jameth shouted and she felt his shaft buck at the entrance to her throat. He was coming! The back of her throat was splattered with hot salty fluid and Levinja, wanting to make this final time between them memorable, slid him out of her throat. Mouth open wide, her tongue lewdly splayed to accept his seed, she rapidly stroked his shaft, now slimy with her saliva, while the tip of her tongue danced across the soft spot beneath the angry purple head. 

Jameth gasped and shuddered as he spurted an incredible amount of semen across Levinja's tongue. The boy had come three times already before this, and yet he was still able to produce such a mighty flood of his essence, and with such force too! Errant spurts overshot her tongue to coat her upper lip, but more made it down her throat. And all the while Levinja stared up at him with her sparkling eyes, delighting in the ecstasy contorting his face, the disbelief as he watched this older human woman hungrily catch every drop of his semen. 

Soon the spurts slowed and Levinja, no longer able to resist, swallowed. The salty rich taste brought a flush of pleasure between her legs and she squeezed her thighs together. Oh gods, was she actually coming, just from drinking his semen? Unlike the boy, she had but little energy left and her climax was short and intense, her sex making a sticky mess of her underwear. 

She took his now-softening member from her lips, leisurely licking it all over of every drop of his pleasure. Then, with a stab of sadness, she drew his loincloth back down over it and stood up.

She hugged him to her, this one last time. “Darling Jameth, promise me that you will bring pleasure to only those who deserve it with that delightful thing.” She kissed his forehead, took his hands in her own and squeezed. “But now –”

“You must go,” he said, his voice breaking. He squeezed her hands. “I know.” He looked up at her and he manage a fragile, sweet smile that broke Levinja's heart. “Be careful, mater. I hope you fulfil your quest soon.”

Levinja nodded. Mater. It must be the title imps give to their matriarchs. She squeezed back the tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes. She embraced him one last time, then regretfully let him go. 

She turned. The expanse of mountain meadows beckoned. And there! A cloud shifted on the farthest peak and for a brief moment she saw it – the tower! The Tower of Maona, the home to that precious relic, Saint Moana's Mirror.

She took a step forward, then turned. Jameth was already gone. Disappointment flared up in her chest, but she realised, as the boy did, that it was better this way. She hefted her pack onto her shoulder and with new-found determination began the long descent down the side of the mountain.

To be continued in The Harpy's Pride


	5. The Harpy's Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levinja, trapped in a snowstorm, seduces her way into the nest of a haughty harpy-boy.

Levinja pressed the bear's fur more tightly around her, despite the smell, as the next onslaught of ice and sleet smashed against her. She shivered, blinking snow-blind against the chaos of white and grey. There, the path. The path! It continued, almost totally obscured around the edge of the mountain.

The green mountain meadows she had gazed upon with Jameth were just a dream, now. The storm had come, unexpected as all storms on the mountain did, turning the world from that endless cool blue vault to a swirling grey nightmare of shrieking winds and freezing temperatures. 

Luckily, the bear had attacked her. It had been an old bear, rendered aggressive from starvation, brought on by an old injury she had later discovered in its side. But she'd had no chance to negotiate with it. She had struck it through the middle with her sword as the huge black body had flung itself at her from above, its great paws gouging the air. Bears, for all their beauty, were dangerous creatures which would disembowel you and eat you alive and screaming, but still she had felt a sting of regret at the great furry body laid out on the rapidly reddening snow before her.

She had thanked the gods and taken out her knife and skinned it with the rapid cuts of an experienced hunter. All the Knights of the Order of the Evening Star were trained to survive in the wild. 

Yes, to survive... but sometimes surviving smelled very, very bad. 

The world darkened now. Ah, so the sun, which she had not seen for so long, was slipping beneath the earth. Levinja doggedly pushed her aching and exhausted body to keep going. She had abandoned her armour further down the mountain – it was simply too heavy to wear, especially in this storm. What was the point in wearing it, if it did not defend you from the ice and snow? Her corpse would not benefit from its protection. But it was still with a sting of fear and regret that she had tossed her cuirass and greaves aside. 

Levinja stumbled. She shielded her eyes, stared forward through the black of the bear's fur. The path was invisible now. The mountain side, coated in snow and ice, had become one with the white of the icy storm. Only here and there did small knots of grey appear, the outcrops of rocks and crags which the snow could not find purchase on. 

She had to find shelter, no matter how small. Even just a tiny overhang, somewhere she could shield her face from the constant onslaught of this shrieking, icy gale. 

There, ahead! A dark irregular shape, jutting out like a thick spine. An overhang? Hope burst out in Levinja's heart and she pushed one leg after the other, the snow crunching beneath her. 

That hope saved her. She reached the overhang just as her strength gave out. She stumbled and collapsed forward into the warm and comparatively still air of the overhang and lay there, here heart and lungs pumping. She pulled the bear's fur over her and squirmed forward like a hairy caterpillar until her entire body was clear of the wind and ice. And then she let her eyelids fall and she slept.

\---------------------

Levinja awoke with a start. She must have been asleep only for a few minutes, but it had been enough to revitalise her. Her knight's instincts had dragged her back out of that deliciously warm embrace of sleep, knowing she must first be sure she was somewhere safe.

With a grunt she rose up. Ah, but this place was paradise! The overhang was more than just that, she knew now. This was the entrance to a cave, hidden by the side of the mountain – a hollow, curved like a shell. Outside, the storm continued to shriek to the heavens, but here the air, despite the icy ghost of an odd flurry which wandered in from outside, was still and warm. 

Warmer than she could ever have expected. Like the lair of the imps, there must be some volcanic activity in the heart of the mountain, heating the air. Levinja sniffed. No, no sign of any of the poisonous gasses that such volcanoes could sometimes produce. Truly, the gods were smiling on her.

But then she detected some other scent. The bear's stinky hide obscured it, but she was trained to see with her nose as much as with her eyes and her ears. Yes, there was a definite scent. This cave was the home to someone – or something.

There was light, too. Levinja, her hand drifting to the hilt of her sword, took a few steps forward. It was not the warm buttery light of a fire, but a blue light, more a glow, as that from glow-worms or phosphorescent lichen. 

And now she heard movement, the shifting of something. The sound was odd but strangely familiar, and Levinja struggled through her exhaustion to remember where she had heard it before. A dry sound, like leaves rubbing against each other. No, not leaves – something softer. Scales? 

Steeling herself for a desperate battle, she pushed away the mist of her brain and crept forward. If she had to fight the denizen of this cave, be it dragon or serpent, to survive, she would do so. She could not give up, not now she was so close to the goal of her quest. 

Her desperate heart rose in her chest and, emboldened, she turned the corner of the mouth of the cave into the source of the blue glow. 

Light bled from the huge crystals hanging from the roof of the cave. For a heartbeat Levinja was left blinking, trying to make out what she was seeing. After days of snow and grey rock and clouds she was half-blind and the colours before her confused her, expecting as she had the bone-littered lair of some great predator. 

Instead, there was furniture – a mirror, a dresser, a wardrobe as well, human-sized and of expertly carved and lacquered wood. Brightly-dyed tapestries hung from the walls and the cave's floor was strewn with rugs. No, this was not merely a cave. This was someone's home! 

But this was not the home of a human, for all the human furniture. At the far end of the cave was a great, bowl-shaped nest – at least, that's what it looked like to Levinja. It seemed to be fashioned from thin branches, but was filled with pillows and blankets, as luxurious as one would expect in a rich human's mansion. Whoever lived in this place had expensive tastes. 

But no sign of the inhabitant. Perhaps the sound she'd heard had been the product of her feverish mind. 

She moved forward, her hand slipping from the hilt of her sword. Something intelligent and non-human lived here, and she did not wish to bring about a battle by appearing in their home armed and belligerent. 

Her eyes scanned the room. The tapestries had martial scenes on them, knights and pennants and battles. They were something Levinja herself might have had hanging from the walls of her own home. She passed the mirror and glanced at it. A tired old woman looked back at her and her heart skipped. But no, it was just her reflection. Gods, she looked haggard! 

But then she saw a gleam of colourful movement in the corner of the mirror and she swung around. Something human-sized but clearly not human, with wide shimmering wings, glided to the floor from where it had been hiding high up in the roof of the cave. Stupid! She'd forgotten the first rule of entering a potentially hostile place – always look up! 

“Who are you?” demanded a haughty voice. 

Levinja raised her hands. She couldn't see the face of who had spoken – all she could see was those wide, powerful wings, the colours of the feathers shimmering as the monster advanced. “I mean you no harm!” she cried. “Please. The storm–“

“What? A human?” The great wings beat the air, glittering, before they furled away, revealing their owner: a slender male with long dark hair, resembling a human except for those wings and the clawed feet that now tapped on the stone floor as he took a step forward. Levinja gasped. A harpy! She had never before encountered one of these shy and rare monsters. This one was ruggedly handsome, with huge dark eyes and sharp cheek-bones and a full, sensual mouth – but his lips were twisted in a sneer, his nostrils flaring as his eyes considered her with naked revulsion.

“The storm,” Levinja repeated. “I was caught in it. Please, if I could just rest here for a –“

“Why are you here ?” the harpy demanded, folding his wings across his chest as an angry man might cross his arms. “Humans never come to these mountains. This is harpy territory.”

“I'm on a quest,” said Levinja quickly. She shifted her bear-skin and ran a hand through her matted hair. Gods, she was so ugly right now! And standing before this gorgeous monster-boy she felt terribly self-conscious. 

“A quest,” repeated the boy, snorting. “Dressed like that?”

“I was forced to abandon my armour,” said Levinja, suddenly fragile. The boy had homed-in on the one thing that would hurt her and she smarted under those dark, accusatory eyes, but she held his gaze and straightened her back. “I am a knight of the Order of the Evening Star.”

“Hah!” the boy chuckled. “A likely story.” He swept out a red-green wing, the tip pointing towards a tapestry beside them. Knights rode in single file on a green field, the yellow sun bright on their blue pennants. “That tapestry is of a mustering of the Knights of Evening Star. You do not look like one of them, I'm afraid.” His eyes narrowed and he took another clicking step forward. “No, you look more to me like an exile. What was your crime?”

Levinja smiled grimly. He was so cocksure and sharp-tongued! In another situation she would have had the boy over her knees, no matter he was on the cusp of manhood, and laid the flat of her hand against his round, recalcitrant buttocks! That would teach him some manners. But she was in no position to do that here, now. She would have to tread carefully. 

“I have committed no crime,” said Levinja quietly. “I am travelling to the Tower of Maona. I seek the Saint's Mirror.”

The harpy-boy blinked. “The Tower is not so very far from here,” he said. “Several hours flight when the updrafts are in your favour.” He pursed his lips. “But how do you know of it?”

“Like I said,” repeated Levinja. “I am a knight. The Tower is the goal of my quest. But I have travelled far and as you can see, this is all I have left of my possessions.” She let the bear-skin fall away, revealing her tattered jerkin. The top laces had worn open and her collar, neck and the upper curve of one breast were visible. Coming from the cold into warmth, her skin was flush and pink and when the harpy-boy's eyes fell upon her flesh, Levinja held back a mischievous smile. Ah, so her gambit had been correct. Despite his haughtiness, this boy was just like any other. Now he realised she was a female and not just a vagrant, she might just be able to convince him to allow her to stay. She had no desire to fight this beautiful creature, and her body was still suffering from too little food and too long a journey through the blistering cold. 

The harpy lifted his eyes from her bared flesh. Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “You may be on a quest, but you are no knight,” he sniffed.

“Is that so?” said Levinja quietly. She took a few short steps toward the tapestry the boy had indicated earlier and he watched her. “I like this tapestry. You know which even it illustrates, yes?”

The boy frowned, but he nodded. “Yes, I know. But you –”

“The Muster before the Battle of Tarphessa,” said Levinja. “I remember it well.”

The boy's mouth fell open. “You were there?” But just as quickly his sneer returned. “You were not there.”

“Oh, but I was,” said Levinja. She drew a finger along the tapestry. “See? Here is Radolpho, the leader of the muster. Even without the labels, there would be no mistaking that unruly red hair. And this is the famed knight-errant Everean. And here– come, look.“ She gestured for the boy to come closer. His wide forehead furrowing in a frown, he took a few hops forward. “You can read Common, yes?” 

The boy's eyes flashed. “Of course I can read Common,” he sniffed. 

“I meant no offence,” said Levinja, fighting back a smile. The boy's curiosity was getting the better of him and he was quite close to her now. His oval face and dark features were open to her inspection as his eyes followed her finger across the tapestry. He truly was remarkably handsome. His eyes, wide-spaced, gave him a look of innocence, but his pouting lips and flaring nostrils prevented him from looking gentle. A delightful combination! Levinja leaned closer. Ah yes, he smelled good, too. This lair smelled of him, giving off that pleasant lived-in scent of a male. She missed that smell. 

“Just what are you showing me?” the boy muttered. Levinja shook her head and refocussed. The sudden closeness of his body had distracted her.

“Here,” she said. “Under this knight. The one on the white horse. Can you read the name?”

The boy narrowed his eyes. “L- Levinja Verada,” he said. He sat back, blinking at her.

Levinja allowed herself a smile. “See? I told you I was a knight.”

The boy frowned. “That is you?”

Levinja laughed. “It is. Of course, this tapestry must have been woven a few years ago when I was a much younger woman.” She rested her hands on her wide hips and tilted them. “I've had two sons since then.” 

The boy looked at her, as if seeing her as a woman for the first time, his eyes lingering on her body. Levinja struggled to make her playful smile a warm one. Hadn't she been on the verge of exhaustion just a short while ago? And now she was showing off for this beautiful boy. 

She caught his eyes and he tore his gaze away, blushing. He took a hop closer to the tapestry and examined it again.

“You read this name before,” the boy said. “This isn't really you.”

Levinja chuckled. “Oh, now how could I have read this label from way over there?” 

“Then you already knew the name,” said the boy. 

“And I don't even know yours,” murmured Levinja. She was not likely to win this argument, seeing as how the boy was adamant not to believe her. It didn't matter. With her foot in the door, she had already half-reached her goal. Better to change the subject.

The boy blinked at her. Oh, those eyes! Under those sharp, dark brows, and so dark against his pale skin, she thought she would never tire of having them upon her. 

“My name?”

Levinja murmured. “I want to know the name of my benefactor,” she said.

The harpy knitted his eyebrows, thinking it over, but then he relented.

“My name is Feura,” he said.

“Feura,” repeated Levinja. “A beautiful, striking name. It suits you well.”

Feura looked at her. Levinja knew she was not being subtle with her flattery, but something told her this boy's haughty heart would appreciate such bluntness. She knew she was right when the earlier blush returned.

“It means 'swift',” he said. “In the language of the harpies.”

Levinja placed a hand over her mouth in a coquettish gesture. “Ah, so a very appropriate name, then.” 

Feura's eyes met Levinja's. Hers were sparkling, but he narrowed his. “You're flattering me,” he muttered. “Just so you can stay here.”

“Oh,” said Levinja. “But –“

The boy shrugged. “It doesn't matter. You can stay here. I don't care.” He swept a wing across the breadth of the room. “There is plenty of space on the floor.”

“I see,” said Levinja. Well, it was a bit much to have expected to be welcomed straight into the boy's cosy looking nest. Her eyes scanned the little lair. Still far better than being stuck out in a snow storm! “Anywhere is fine?”

Feura nodded. “But try not to mess anything up.” 

Levinja bit back a smile. So haughty! Well, she was a guest in his home and he was showing her hospitality, even if it was a little chilly. She walked over to a corner and heaved off her pack. “I will be careful,” she said. 

She took out her bedroll and lay it out. Feura watched her. 

“Humans take their nest with them?” he murmured. 

“Well,” said Levinja, pleased that the boy was displaying his earlier curiosity again. She far preferred it to his arrogant dismissiveness, and males with a brain in their heads had always attracted her. “Only when we are on a quest.”

“The Tower of Maona,” he said. “You're really searching for it?”

Levinja nodded and crouched herself down on the bedroll. Ah, but these old bones had taken a pounding today! “Yes,” she said. “Do you know where it is?”

Feura lifted his eyes to the glittering ceiling of his cavern. Then he nodded. “I will show you tomorrow,” he said. “When the snow storm is over you will leave, yes?”

“I would not want to impose on your hospitality any longer,” she said.

She had tried to keep the irony from coming through in her voice, and she seemed to have succeeded, as the boy was mollified. “You will leave tomorrow then,” he said simply. He hopped over to his nest, perched on the edge, then hopped inside. He fluffed up his feathers just like a bird would and Levinja watched, her heart touched by the sudden cuteness of such an otherwise arrogant young male. 

Feura took a while to get comfortable, but at last he stopped his fussy fluffing and lay there, his face amidst the green and gold of the pile of feathery wings. His dark eyes considered her and Levinja resisted the urge to meet his gaze. Oh, but his eyes were so beautiful, and indeed it was a face that one could not quickly get tired of looking at. His mate, if she could tame his proud ways, would be lucky, spending her life sharing that warm, cosy nest with such a gorgeous creature. 

Levinja tired of busying herself with her bedroll and glanced at the boy, still watching her. What on earth was he thinking? 

“Good night,” she said.

The boy said nothing, but looked away, tucking his face under the arc of a wing like a bird would. 

Levinja sighed. Well, hopefully his future mate would teach him some manners. Hard to stay angry at such a cute male, though. She felt that familiar twinge. Oh, now she was warm and dry her body had awakened. Greedy thing! She bit her lip. Later, when the lair was dark and Feura asleep, she would pleasure herself and find release. If only it would be the boy's fingers which....

Oh, but then, he did not have fingers, did he? He would have to rely on his tongue and his lips.

A sudden vision of herself, spread-eagled, the proud harpy boy's face between her naked thighs and lapping at her sex as she squirmed and moaned pushed its way into her consciousness. Levinja grit her teeth and quickly began to remove her clothes. 

The stinky bear skin was placed far away, and then she removed her jerkin. Having abandoned her cuirass, there was no reason to bind her breasts nearly so much now and she quickly undid the binding, while keeping her tunic on. 

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. He was watching her. No doubt those dark eyes were following her every move, camouflaged as they were deep in that heap of red-gold and green feathers. Well, he was a curious boy, after all. No doubt he had never seen a naked human woman before.

Levinja decided then to give him a thrill. Her heart was suddenly wanton and the thought of teasing the villainous little monster boy sent a shudder of pleasure through her. She slipped her breast-binding from under the hem of her tunic. Then, moving so that her back was to the nest and its hidden eyes, she leaned forward as though to fluff up her bed roll. Her back arched and Levinja felt a sudden coolness as the hem of her tunic road up, displaying the expanse of her cotton-clad bottom. No doubt the boy was getting a most educational eyeful! 

She dared a little wiggle. Ah, but even after so many weeks of poor rations and exertion, she was still carrying some overgenerous weight. Even all those sexy games with the other boys had not burned it off. 

She leaned forward, then back, as she patted the bedroll. She felt a surge of some lewd liquid between her legs and wondered if the boy could see how wet her underwear was. Did he know he had produced that effect on her? Oh, but Levinja wished he would fight off his arrogant pride and climb out from the nest, hop over to her and without any words pull aside the sopping material of her underwear and plunge his gorgeous member deep into her. Levinja grimaced and forced herself to slip into the bedroll. No chance of all that happening! Why was she teasing herself so much? She squirmed and tried to get comfortable. 

She heard movement from the nest, but it was just the sweep of the boy's wing. The light grew dim. So there was some magic, here, in this little lair of his. The crystals above her sparkled like stars, but Levinja could not sleep. Her ears were active, waiting for the first signs of deep breathing from the boy. Gods, but she had made herself frustrated! 

And worse than that, it was cold, even with her bedroll wrapped around her. She had caught a chill, perhaps. She began to shiver. She steeled herself to reach out of her little cocoon for one of the rugs that covered the floor beside her, and she pulled that around herself, too.

But to no avail. Ah, but even with the rug beneath her the floor of the cave was viciously cold and she imagined it was sucking the heat out of her entire body.

She realised then that the boy had fallen asleep. Feura, deep and snug in his nest. His breathing was low and deep. But the cold had eked the passion from her blood as well as the heat. 

Levinja tossed and turned. No, no this would not do at all. She squirmed herself in her cocoon across the floor. Maybe it was warmer closer to Feura and his nest.

It was a little warmer, but not as much as Levinja had hoped. She lay there, listening to the boy's breathing, hearing also the gentle whisper of his feathers rubbing against each other. Her eyes, unable to close from her sleeplessness, were used to the dark now and she could see the shape of him above the nest, the glistening of his wings. No sign though, now, of those huge dark eyes which had been so glued to her earlier wanton display. 

He did not despise her, then. He was just like any other young boy when confronted by a mature woman – intimidated. That was why he had been so sharp with her. Perhaps he was even a little afraid of her. 

There was no sign in this place of a mate. Levinja wondered how such a beautiful creature could be lacking one. But then she thought of his arrogant pride. No doubt he did not think any of his admirers suitable for himself. 

There was something to respect in that, though. Instead of merely using them like so many boys gifted by fortune with such beauty would, he preferred to remain alone. 

Levinja shivered again. No, this was bad. Without a warmer place she could not sleep, and without sleep she would grow weaker than she felt. She knew people had died in similar situations when stuck in the mountains. 

She peeled herself out of the cocoon. There was only one thing to do, but she would have to be quiet. She wormed her way out of the bedroll at last with some difficulty, having folded it so tightly about herself, but with a last kick of her feet she was free. The air in the cave, the bare stone on her bare feet, started her shivering again. 

She could not dally. She found the nest, clambered over the side as slowly and quietly as she could. The blankets which covered it were warm to the touch – the heat of the boy's body had bled out this far. And the scent of his body! The entire nest was imbued with it. Even had the cave been pitch-black, Levinja would still have easily been able to find the boy and his nest. 

She reached out. Ah, a pillow, and beside it the ticklish softness of feathers. She jerked her hand back as though she had been burned. The softness had startled her. But they were so wonderfully warm as well.

Her hand moved forward until her fingertips touched that soft wall again. Yes, very very warm. She let her fingers splay out and slip between the feathers, until they touched smooth skin. So this was the edge of one of his wings, then. Gently, she moved her fingers, no longer touching the skin, with the flesh growing narrower until only feathers, long and noble, remained. 

His wings, like a bird's, were splayed out over his body. Levinja knew she would not be able to make do with merely squeezing herself between the boy's body and the pillows. Instead, she gingerly lifted the wing's veil of feathers with the back of a hand and slid under into the incredible cosy warmth underneath.

She knew she was taking a chance, but she had no choice. And the boy remained asleep, although he stirred a little as she positioned herself in the little nook of space between the boy's human torso and the edge of the nest. Her toes touched the smoothness of scales. His legs, then, ending in those birdlike talons. She let her toes slip up a little. Yes, the scales ended here and the soft, yielding flesh of a human began.

Levinja bit her lip. Stop it, you! With her shivering passing and her body quickly and hungrily drawing in the boy's body heat, her blood had relit its fire. The delightful smell of his body was also did not help the situation. 

Levinja pulled her toes away and curled her knees up to her chest. Better not to touch the boy more than she had to. Otherwise, he might wake up and she would lose her wonderful little bed and have to return to that cold and lonely floor. 

With his wing curled over her, Levinja felt safe. So this would be the lot of a human woman married to a harpy? She could easily learn to enjoy this sort of life. She wondered if humans and harpies often came together. It did not seem impossible. The lack of a harpy's arms and hands might make some situations more challenging, but in return you would be able to have those wings swept about you, enveloping you in a feathery hug only a harpy was capable of blessing you with.

Feura murmured and Levinja smiled in the dark. She closed her eyes and sleep fell upon her in a single sweep of its own dreamy wings.

\----------

She awoke an unknown time later with the boy wrapped around her. His bare chest was pressed against her, with only the thin material of her tunic between them. Her arms had encircled his torso of their own accord while she had slept. Her palms were pressed against his back, where his feathers began, and were full of soft fluffiness. Ah, but underneath those longer feathers which he used for flight was a soft down, like any bird would have, and her hands were full of it. No wonder they were so warm! 

Levinja, as calm as she could muster while her head was still thick with sleep, began to extricate herself. Regret touched her heart, though. The cold night had brought the two of them together, she with her arms around him, he with his wings swept around her, and as she drew her hands out her fingertips slipped down to the beginning of his smooth skin. Any lower and she would reach the first rise of those beautiful buttocks and then she would be lost.

She pulled her arms away at last and moved back. Feura shifted in his sleep and muttered. She felt his warm, fragrant breath near her face. She did not have far to move her head if she had wished to kiss those pouty lips of his. Levinja's heart lightened to imagine the boy's reaction! 

But her amusement quickly sublimated into passion when the boy, with an annoyed mutter, wriggled back against her and his wing, with a shifting whisper, slipped around her tighter. 

With her arms against her side she shifted her body, trying to find a comfortable position, but the boy's proximity made it impossible. She sighed and slipped her arms back around his sides, hugging him. She would be careful. He had not woken up with her earlier movement, and who knows how long the two of them had lain there, wrapped together like lovers? She would, with luck, be able to spend the rest of the chilly night so and when the boy woke up she could merely express as much surprise as he no doubt would at the situation.

She did not regret what the situation had forced and drew closer to his smooth warm body. His feathers tickled her nose and stifling a sneeze she against shifted her body, straightening it. In doing so, her tunic rode up and she suddenly felt against her thigh a hardness she knew all too well. She drew away, but the boy moved with her, pressing it against her. He murmured a pleased sound and with a birdlike chirp he swept his wings further around her back and drew her closer. 

Levinja rolled her eyes. Gods, this was going to be agony. Tension in that most wanton of places had continued to grow and she felt hot and sticky there. Any more of this and she would drench her underwear. There was no way she could sleep under these conditions! 

Still, lying there cradled in his wings was a novel and delightful situation. If only he would stop butting that gorgeous thing into her...

Her hand was already slipping down between them as she wrestled with whether or not what she was intending to do was a good idea. Levinja! Just a few short hours ago you were on the point of dying from exposure, and now all you can think about is this exquisite creature pressed against you? But another part of her, too, wanted to prove something to this arrogant little bird. And perhaps he deserved a reward for his kindness, even if it had been forced out of him.

Feura butted his erection against her once more and Levinja took it as consent. The poor boy couldn't be expected to sleep well under these circumstances either! Her fingers touched his hardness gingerly at first, pressing against it through the material of his loincloth. Ah, there was a warm wetness there! So he was already slick and eager. Levinja wondered what strange and erotic dreams were passing through that handsome head of his. Was she a part of them?

It didn't matter. She would be the one who would please him, regardless of the identity of his dream lover or lovers. 

Her initial touch had elicited a soft, hissing intake of breath from Feura, but he remained asleep. Now Levinja placed her palm over the mound in his loincloth and gave it a gentle squeeze. A happy murmur came from the boy and Levinja's heart warmed. She stroked him through the material, following the unseen contours of his rigidity. Yes, he certainly was a well-endowed boy! 

Levinja's free hand slipped down between her thighs and slipped under the waist of her underwear. She was already sopping there and her fingers slid through dewy pubic hair to find her button engorged. She bit her lip as liquid lightning sparked up her spine and a further gush of lewd juices coated her fingers. Sliding them into herself was like a knife through butter and she let her thumb rest on that stiff little promontory, pressing it as she fingered her sticky sex and squeezed her hand between her thighs.

Her rising pleasure made her bold and she slipped her hand up under the loincloth where it straight away encountered the hot, smooth length of his erection. She drew his foreskin back, feeling the wetness of the head, and began to stoke him with the rhythm she knew men liked. Too fast, too slow, or too erratic, stimulation by hand could be a frustrating experience for a male. But Feura's shifting of his wings, the pushing forward of his hips and his growing hardness told her he was enjoying her touch.

As she stroked him and pleasured herself, his face fell near hers, his chin resting on her shoulder. His cheek was against her ear, his hot breath, coming in short pants now, washing over her neck. She wanted more than anything to turn her head and bring her lips against his, to catch that sweet breath and taste it for herself, but she knew that would be a step too far and, like the sleeping princess in the fairytale, he would wake up. 

No, she would bring him to completion with her hand and then she would finally get some sleep. 

Levinja bit her lip. She was growing close to her climax and still the boy was rutting into her hand. What stamina he had! Some men would come off almost immediately after she touched them, bringing that strange mix of disappointment and delight that her touch had been so powerful. Her hand was slick with his juices and he gave no sign of slowing. 

Levinja slipped her hand off his member and brought it up to her face. Ah! His scent was overpowering! She could not resist slipping her tongue from between her lips and giving her slick fingertips an exploratory lick.

Saltiness and a rich, lewd flavour overpowered her senses and sent a spark jetting down her spine to where the fingers of her other hand were still plunging deep into her sopping cleft. The fingers stained with Feura's excitement slid into her mouth again and Levinja's tongue slipped all over them, scouring them of every tiny patch of his flavour. 

Feura, meanwhile, was squirming, and she saw his face in the half-light, grimacing. 

Levinja tore her slippery fingers from her mouth and grabbed hold of the boy's hip. She slipped down under his coverlet of shifting feathers until her face was before that hot and hard part of him which she wanted more than anything. She fished him out and brought her lips hungrily against the impossibly smooth head of his rigidity. His excitement was drooling from him and Levinja's tongue, flicking with intoxicated delight, lapped every bit into her mouth. Feura above her groaned but Levinja did not slow down. No, if the boy woke, the boy woke. She would find some way to calm his anger, if indeed he was angry at her. But there was no way, now that she had got a taste of his masculine essence, that she would stop until he was spurting inside her mouth. 

She slipped the tip of her tongue into the tiny swollen slit which was the source of the delicious fluid and burrowed it deep. Feura gave a little cry and her tongue was suddenly awash with a flood of salt. Some dripped out of her mouth and wet her chin, so she dove onto his sex, engulfing half of the substantial length in her mouth to make sure nothing more was lost. 

Further gentle waves of fluid basted the inside of her mouth, but he wasn't coming yet. These were just the overflowings of a boy who had not ejaculated for a long time. The poor thing! No wonder he had been so angry. He was merely frustrated. Well, Levinja would see to it that he was fully satisfied. Herself, as well.

She bobbed her head rapidly, her copious greedy saliva creating a lubricant which let the boy slide in and out of her mouth as though he was rutting into her sex. Levinja breathed through her nose, keeping the seal around his shaft complete. She did not want that delicious organ coming free and wasting its no doubt generous load when he came at last. No, she would have every drop of him!

Levinja came first. The sensation of his hardness plunging in and out of her mouth with abandon, the boy's impassioned pants and moans, the constant overflow of his delicious seed drove her over the edge before she could stop herself. She gave a little cry, her fingers plunging deep inside her, the heel of her hand pressing desperately against the stiff promontory of her button. Her whole body shuddered and she felt a hot sticky blast of fluid across her palm. Oh god, there was so much of her coming out! Her scent flooded the air.

As she pressed her hand harder between her thighs and pursued every last shivering moment of pleasure, she maintained her attack on the boy, bobbing her head feverishly. As her climax faded into a gorgeous warmth which lay thick on her body like a blanket, Levinja extricated her sopping hand from between her legs and slid it around the boy's shaft. Slick with her juices, it became a surrogate for her own sex and the boy penetrated it with increasing abandon, his hips pumping. 

Feura suddenly stiffened and Levinja felt his balls rise up against her wrist. His head throbbed against her tongue and without delay she closed her mouth over it, making a seal around the shaft so that nothing could escape her. And then with a cry Feura came, an incredible wave of boiling hot semen, salty and sticky beyond description. Levinja swallowed desperately, trying to clear the huge amount of fluid impregnating her mouth, but as her throat dealt with one wave, the next was already blasting over her tongue and filling her to overflowing. She swallowed again, but the next, even greater load made her choke and gasping she tore the boy spurting from her mouth. Thick ropes of strongly-scented fluid splattered across her lips and cheek and she closed her eyes just in time as more seed splashed across her face and up onto her forehead. Feura was moaning with his climax and Levinja, not wanting the boy to miss any iota of the pleasure he had helped her to attain, kept up her feverish stroking of his shaft. 

But still he came. Her face was splattered, irreversibly stained by his pungent semen which dripped down her chin and onto her neck. Levinja licked at the streaks that were smeared over her lips and around her mouth, and she directed his last, less powerful spurts onto her widely splayed tongue.

She teased the tender spot underneath and then ran her tongue all over his slick and salty head, but like all males after they have come, Feura was now too sensitive and he pulled himself free from Levinja's licking tongue. With a happy, sleepy murmuring he fluffed his feathers and sought the other side of the nest, leaving Levinja gingerly touching the cooling stickiness coating her face. In the dark she imagined how she must look, her entire face glazed with his seed. Levinja knew well how much males enjoyed seeing a woman's face in such a state and she felt a little sting of disappointment that she was not able to titillate the boy with the sight.

She wiped her face with the top of her tunic. Oh gods, the whole of her stunk like him now! The smell would not let her get to sleep and she sensed a whispered pressure hinting between her legs. She had come, but desired still more. 

But she had come enough, perhaps, to finally get some sleep. She nuzzled up against the pillow nearest her head and reached out to embrace it. Fuera was on the other side of the nest and she decided it was best to leave him there. It had been a miracle he hadn't woken up, and as a result she'd had the precious chance to enjoy him without any protest. 

Gods, it had been a little like ravishment, hadn't it? But the boy's body had told her the truth. He had not fled from her mouth or hands and the copious amount of his seed and his adorable, sleepy cries proved he would not have resented what had happened had he woken up during it.

But Levinja lay there, a twinge between her thighs, wondering how it would have felt to have that large organ filling her womb with so much of his seed. And her mouth was still full of him, his smell steeping her sinuses, her mouth and tongue still thick with his flavour. 

Somehow, though, sleep at last took her.

\--------------

Levinja woke to something pushing against her. For a few desperate moments she struggled to remember where she was. The whisper of feathers and the thick delicious scent of a warm male brought it all rushing back. Somehow she'd moved during the night and was now draped over the edge of the nest, clutching one of the long pillows which made it such a cosy little bed. Her face pushed forward again, pressing into the soft material. Oh, Feura was on top of her! His wings covered her from behind and he was pushing against her, the familiar hardness of his erection pressing against her buttocks. 

Levinja's sex flooded. Gods, he'd woken up and now he was taking his revenge by ravishing her! But no... his whole body pressed against her with the next rut of his hips, his warm, firm chest flush against her back, and she smelled his sweet breath against her neck and cheek, coming in slow pants. The boy was still asleep! No doubt he was dreaming, but the stiff pressure of his rigidity showed the reality of the situation. 

Levinja gripped the edge of the nest. Even asleep he was rough! He rubbed and pressed against her and sharp, tingling pleasure shot along her spine and spread through her chest. Levinja felt a drop of moisture on her shoulder – Feura was moaning, his saliva dripping onto her from those wide, sensuous lips of his. 

Levinja's face was pushed again and again into the pillow and her own moans were smothered by the material, but she soon felt a rising frustration. The boy's hips were moving faster now and she knew that if she didn't do something, his delicious seed would be spurted against her tunic and be wasted.

Levinja reached back between herself and the rutting boy and lifted the hem of her tunic as he pulled back his hips for the next thrust. His erection again pressed against her butt and she bit back a yelp of pleasure, then quickly gripped the waistband of her underwear in the next interval and tore down the sopping cotton. 

Feura pressed himself right against her bare sex with his next thrust and Levinja, dizzy with pleasure, wondered just how she was going to extricate that gorgeous organ of his from under his loincloth. But the harpy boy, with an annoyed sleepy mutter and a shifting of his wings, began pushing back against her in his own frenzied frustration and mid-thrust his erection poked free of his loincloth and speared right into her.

The pillow pushed into her mouth and smothered Levinja's cry of ecstasy. The boy had driven right into her to the hilt and her lewd and hungry sex had willingly engulfed him. Thick fluid was squeezed from her, spattering her thighs, and then Feura pulled back and immediately drove his hips forward again, sending another shockwave of pleasure pouring through her. 

The boy began rutting her in earnest, the cave's walls resounding with the lewd squishing of their sexes being driven together. Levinja's moans were so loud they escaped the confines of the pillow pressed against her lips and the material grew wet with her excited drooling. 

She drove back against him, her ample buttocks meeting his every thrust, demanding his rigid organ be driven full-length into her. And Feura plunged hard into her in response, covering her now with his whole body, his wings swept tight around her as she clung to the side of the nest. Levinja felt the harpy-boy's lips against the back of her neck, the hot waft of his panting breath, then the sharp sting as he gripped her skin between his teeth and bit it. Levinja's cry was smothered by the pillow – the back of her neck stung, but the stinging quickly translated into pleasure as Feura's thrusts became faster and more frenzied. 

Of course. Harpies were part bird, after all, and when birds mated the male would often peck the back of the female's neck and hold on as he tread her down. And indeed, the strong grip of his teeth kept her back arched as his body forced her again and again into the pillowed edge of the nest. 

Then all too soon Feura reached the summit of his pleasure. He cried out, letting go of the skin of her neck, and Levinja fell forward as his hips smashed against her buttocks, sending his jerking organ deep inside her to blast her womb to overflowing with even more scalding semen than had filled her mouth. 

Gods, where did this boy get all his energy from? The heat of his ejaculation flooding her belly and the pressure of his body crushing her down sent Levinja over the edge as well. She felt herself spasming around him, her knees trembling and her skin afire with wave after wave of shivering pleasure. Her climax this time was far more intense and longer-lasting than the one she had brought about with her own fingers, and when Feura pulled himself out of her she collapsed into the nest and curled, shuddering, into the foetal position and lay there. 

The floods of pleasure took a long time to abate and she was still tingling when she pried her eyes open. The sun had risen and the pink and purple light of the early morning was creeping into the cave. The air was still and cool. Ah, so the storm had passed.

Levinja yawned and sat up, her eyes falling straight away on Feura, wide awake and perched on the far edge of the nest, staring at her in shock. 

Levinja, still groggy with the last soporific fingers of her pleasure, looked up at him and smiled. 

“Good morning,” she murmured. 

Feura blinked. His eyes flicked down across her naked body, curled up at the bottom of the nest. 

“I...” He began, but then he shook his head and his eyes and lips narrowed. “What are you doing in my nest?”

Levinja's smile deepened. “It was cold,” she said. “And I needed to get warm.” She unfolded herself, stretching her body out with the languid sensuousness of a cat until she was on all fours before him. The hard look on his face dissolved immediately and his eyes went impossibly wide.

“I... uh. Did we...?”

Levinja laughed and crawled towards him on all fours. The boy took a single step back, but then she leaped up and grabbed him around the chest, her hands sliding around his back under the delicious warmth of his feathers.

“We did,” she laughed. “I mean, you did. To begin with.” She hugged the boy-harpy tightly to her despite his half-hearted squirming resistance, which melted away as quickly as his early hard expression had. 

He looked down at her, confusion in his eyes, his cheeks pinkening. Levinja, charmed by his embarrassment, beamed back up at him. 

“I think you were asleep,” she said.

“I... I was dreaming,” said the boy. 

Levinja chuckled. “Oh, I won't hold it against you. You were a very good boy. I suppose you have had many mates before.”

He blinked at her words and his blush deepened.

Levinja brought her face closer. The boy stared but did not move away and when she was in striking distance she darted her lips forward and kissed him.

“There,” she said. “I desired your kisses. Making love is not the same without kissing.” Her eyes grew coquettish. “May I kiss you again?”

The harpy boy said nothing, but this time, when she moved closer, his face came forward a short way to met her. Their kiss was longer this time and Levinja murmured with pleasure as his lips pressed against hers. She felt his body shiver against her, his feathers shifting, much like a human would get goose-bumps. The tip of her tongue slipped out and found his and then his mouth opened to her and she was kissing him with the full, wet strength of her passion. 

Levinja pressed forward and the boy fell back against the far side of the nest, his butt against the edge. Ah, but it felt just as nice to be on top! Levinja pressed her breasts against his chest, caressed his gorgeously toned back with her hungry hands, kissing him over and over with her wet mouth and tongue until he was left gasping.

“Oh, she murmured against his lips. “It looks like another part of you has woken up as well!” She reached down, knowing that the boy would make no move to stop her now. His body remembered her and as her hand slid under his loincloth and found that gorgeous member, again angry and erect, she broke the kiss and began licking and kissing his neck and collarbone. 

She was still smarting with the tingling half-pleasure, half-pain that a spirited penetration always left between her thighs, but her tightening chest, her hardening nipples and her shivering flesh told her that her body desired still more of the delight it had enjoyed from this delicious boy in her arms. Like a wanton, she rubbed herself against his hardness, letting him feel how wet and hot she was. 

“Here,” she said, kissing his lips with short, chaste pecks. “Let me take the reins this time.” 

She mounted him, parting her thighs and easing her pelvis forward until his head just pierced her swollen furrow. She steadied herself over the gasping boy, bringing her arms around his neck so that she had full control over the movement of her lower body, then she slid herself down on him, slowly, teasingly. Feura cried out and Levinja, hot pleasure driving up into her from the base of her spine, gasped and chuckled.

“Oh gods,” she breathed. “Oh gods, you're even harder than before!” 

She engulfed him up to the hilt, her thick pubic hair meshing against his sparser, and she rolled her hips forward, crushing her sensitive button between them. She felt the hard shaft of his organ pressing against her tunnel and she gnawed her lips at the sweet tension spreading through her. She raised herself up, leaving the boy gasping, and then drove herself back down. This time she could no longer contain her voice and cried out in delight. 

Then she began bouncing upon him in earnest. His organ was so big now, her sex so swollen from their earlier pleasure, that it took some effort to drive him into her all the way, even despite the copious floods of thick lewd fluid spilling from her. 

“Oh!” she cried. “Oh, oh, Feura!” 

She raised her buttocks again and again, humping the boy who was dizzy with pleasure himself, throwing his head side to side, sweet moans escaping from his lips. Levinja knew she could not have slowed herself even had she desired to. The sight of the boy in throes of passion, the warm smoothness of his sleek body beneath hers, would not allow it. His wings, wide-splayed, were afire in the morning's first light, glittering with exquisite pink and green, and his gorgeous eyes caught images of the same colour, mirrored by the deep sex-blush of his bare skin.

Levinja kissed him again and again and even despite the pleasure making him lose control, at times he could even kiss her back. She felt the pinions of his wings on her shoulders, helping guide her humping, and she turned and kissed them too. 

She was getting close now. All she wanted was for him to shoot inside her, to feed her ever-hungry sex. Her bouncing grew fervid, her kisses and bites across his neck and chest more aggressive. She mouthed his dark nipples, let her teeth score across them, in revenge for the bite at the back of her neck, and he cried out in surprised pain...

...and then he was exploding full-force inside her again. Levinja could not stop her bouncing and his shaft, awash with her fluids and his semen, pierced up into her over and over, driving more of his bubbling seed up into her womb. Feura cried her name and at the sound Levinja came, too. Her climax this time was intense, a blast of white that exploded inside her head and left her trembling. She collapsed across him, her body awash with sweat. She had no energy left to do anything but lie there atop him and Feura, himself bodiless with exhaustion, wrapped her against him, his strong, beautiful wings shrouding her. 

“Oh Fuera,” she murmured. “Oh, Feura.” His name. It was as beautiful as he was, as beautiful as those gorgeous wings wrapping the two of them together.

\----------

The storm was a memory of an eternity ago now, and outside the cave the mountains were a glittering wonderland of crystal. Rainbow dewdrops sparked in the trees and the landscape glowed pink-white. 

Levinja wrapped her jerkin closer about her shoulders. Even in the crisp sunlight the air held a deep chill. But the thought of his return warmed her.

She heard him before she saw him, a whisper of wings loud amongst the silence. The blades of his wings cut off the sunlight , a swift shadow passing across the snow and her face as he landed beside her. He held a brace of fresh-killed rabbits in his mouth, and he dropped them to the snow. 

Levinja grinned at him as she took them up. Ever since they had lain together, Feura's disposition had changed dramatically. She'd been surprised by his first gift of rabbits, waking to find him placing them on the side of the nest beside her. His thoughtfulness and his blushing face had touched her, and she'd gutted and skinned them swiftly, Feura watching the whole while. 

“Those are... hands?” The word was unfamiliar on his lips.

Levinja grinned. “Yes. They come in useful sometimes, for this kind of delicate work. But what I wouldn't give...” – and here she reached up with her free hand and stroked the pinion of the wing closest to her – “...to have wings and be able to fly like you do.”

Feura had smiled shyly at her words, and returned to watching her hands with childish fascination.

Now, taking up his latest gift of rabbit from the snow, Levinja went to tend to the fire. Feura had been afraid of it at first – harpies were unfamiliar with fire and considered it a dangerous, divine force. But when Levinja had calmed him and shown how easily it was to manage, Feura had become fascinated with it as well.

He crouched down nearby now and watched her as she cooked her own rabbit. Feura preferred his flesh raw, with the bones still inside, although he did appreciate her removal of the bitter and less-palatable guts.

Levinja considered the landscape as she ate. There, on the mountaintop across the valley, waited the tower of Maona. With the storm gone, she could see it clearly from the mouth of the cave, and now her health and strength were both returning, she knew she would have to embark again on her quest. The end was in sight and a strange emotion passed through her. Disappointment? Excitement? Perhaps some mixture of the two. 

Feura was watching her. “You have to go, don't you?”

Levinja turned to him and nodded. The sadness in his voice weighed heavy on her heart. “My quest is almost over,” she said. 

“Tell me another story,” he said. “Of your battles.”

Levinja laughed. As they'd lain together in the nest he had begun to bombard her with questions about her life as a knight – all his doubt, if there had ever been any real doubt, had melted away in the heat of their embraces. And like a young boy he'd asked again and again to hear of her adventures – the Battle of Tarphessa, the dragon of the Black Moors, the duel with the champion of the Leucrines – all stories he knew the names of, but not the details. And Levinja had delighted in telling him those stories, remembering how it had been when her sons had been young, telling them tales of her youth. Her sons long ago had grown out of that wide-eyed fascination in stories involving their mother and it charmed her heart to be able to enjoy again, for a short time at least, that old delight she felt in telling them. 

Of her most recent quest, she was somewhat evasive. She knew Feura, like all males, would be jealous, and she had no desire to play any sort of wanton's game with his feelings. Her mind turned over the events of the last month and she felt a longing. Why could she not stay here with this beautiful boy, with his cold-flushed cheeks, his huge glittering eyes, his smooth, strong body? Could she not remain here, as his mate, and spend their life together? The beauty of this place high up in the mountains, the warmth of his eyes upon her, the cosy darkness of the cave not far away where they had lain together so many times.

But then, always – the Tower. Her knight's heart would not allow her to forsake her quest. 

“Very well,” she said. “One last story.”

Feura nodded, his eyes sad but brave. 

\----------------------

Levinja pulled her jerkin closer around her shoulders. The feathers lining it, feathers which Feura had plucked for her from his chest for her as a parting gift, warmed her. The jerkin held his scent now, and that, too, warmed her. But sadness weighed heavy on her heart despite the comfort of her body. 

The mountain rose ever higher before her. And now, as she turned the final corner of the wall of rock she had been following for the past few hours as it circled up the mountainside, the Tower reappeared – huge, tall and slender, a great black shadow against the intense ice-blue of the sky. She willed her weary legs for one final burst of energy. The day was slipping away and she did not want to get left here, alone and exposed, when night fell. 

The snow crunched beneath her booted feet. She glanced back across the valley. Was that Feura's eyrie she could see, that little black triangle amongst the grey and white? Ah, but it must be her imagination.

And yet – there! In the sky, a dark shape, circling the mountain summit, aloft on the wind, slender and tiny, but only since he was so far away. Yes, there was no mistaking the graceful arc of those wings. Feura! Watching over her. Could he see her? But those eyes had been able to spot white-coated rabbits against the snow by their pink noses. Of course he could see her!

She waved her hands in wide arcs, wanting to cry out to him, but knowing he could not hear her. He rose up, then, in a steep climb and then plunged down in a rapid dive which set her heart afire. Surely he could not pull up in time! His shape vanished against the grey of the far mountainside and for a moment Levinja's heart stopped. And then he reappeared, rising high up into the sky with powerful surges of his wings. The show off! Like any proud teenager, taking risks to impress the girls. But she was the only audience and her heart surged with pleasure at the thought that his display was all for her.

Levinja's eyes grew wet. She turned and didn't look back and climbed the final metres to the object of her quest.

To be concluded in The Mirror's Six-fold Truth


End file.
